#for the ansgt fic

[typicalopposite]

Heyyy, I hope you’re well!💖 I’m soooo obsessed with your “every time I fly” fic it’s all I’ve been thinking about the past 2 days seriously 😭🥹🙌 I would love love love to see Tommy’s point of view or a scene of someone comforting him before the accident 🤧 totally get that you probably already have a plan for the fic thoo but just wanted to spread da love anyway and share!! ❤️‍🔥

Ahhhh! 🫶🫶🫶 I am feeling better from yesterday! And I JUST FINISHED chapter 4 (5om ao3 cause of the prologue) so of course I’ll give you a little Tommy POV! I do actually have a plan to turn the backstory I wrote here into a full fic, especially now that I have angsted a little too hard towards Buck and I feel the need to detail everything that happened with Jay and why Tommy feels like he’s to blame even though Buck was in the wrong! 🫣 but that will be after this fic is finished! Anyway!

Here you go 🫶🫶

Tommy lays on his couch, staring absentmindedly at his TV. He couldn’t tell you a single thing that’s happening on it, but the background noise is just about to lull him (finally) to sleep. If he doesn’t get some soon he might go insane. But to be fair… he feels like he’s gone insane already. Insane with grief, definitely… insane with guilt… for sure.

He should have never kept this a secret. Now it’s all coming back and ruining his life all over again.

There's a knock at his door. Loud thuds to the tune shave and a haircut. Tommy groans and pulls the throw pillow over his head to muffle them. He knows who it is already… They have a key.

“T-Bone!” Sal says equally as loud, pushing the door open. He hears his heavy feet trample across the entryway. If he gets dirt on the rug… he’s dead. There's a shuffle and two small thuds, then the footsteps sound much softer. Tommy can’t help the small smile that works its way to his face. He’s threatened Sal’s life many times about tracking dirt into his house. Seems he’s finally learned. “There you are!” Sal says walking into the living room.

“Here I am…” Tommy repeats, not meaning for it to come out quite so sarcastic, but… it’s been a very stressful week. He pushes himself up to sit, and looks up at Sal.

“Damn, T! You look like shit!” Tommy does his best to attempt to kill his so-called friend with a glare… it doesn’t work, and Sal plops down beside him. “Come on, it can’t be that bad…”

“He found out about Jay…”

“Oh,” Sal leans back into the cushion. “Well… did you tell him—”

Tommy shakes his head, rubs at his eyes. “Fucking Gerard mentioned him…” he says. “And then Evan just sprung it on me… and I panicked.”

“So… what does he know then?”

“He saw the articles… he knows we dated,” Tommy shrugs, burying his face in his hands.

“That’s all?” Tommy doesn’t respond. “Wait… that’s all? He dumped you… for that?” Tommy nods, face still covered, he tries to breathe and it comes out a sob. “The hell, T?!” Sal pushes to his feet, turning towards Tommy, and grabs him by the arm, hauling him up. “Come on… you are done wallowing over this kid…”

“What… where are we going?”

“Out!” Sal says, grabbing his and Tommy’s shoes from the doorway

[amaranthineghost]

| EVERY GODDAMN INCH OF YOUR SKIN IS MINE ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando norris x reader

ꕥ summary: he can't stand her, but he can't keep his eyes off her

ꕥ authors note: I tried to make their thoughts parallel? if that makes sense. whenever it's focused on lando, it says his feelings or thoughts, and then to the reader, it's repeated in a way. so if it's repetitive, it's purposeful. also this was so like awkward to write ?? how do people do this all the time? and I would've gotten this out sooner but black friday shifts kicked my ass sooooo. gonna focus on requests after this :3 (last half unrevised because I wanted to get this out so I might edit some errors)

ꕥ warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol, etc.

HE COULDN'T STAND HER. from her mere existence to the tiniest detail of her. from the way she carried herself to the freckled skin of her body. the way she wore her hair, the dip in her skin just above her thighs. the curvature of her spine. her god-awful voice that came out of her pink, pouty lips. her half-lidded, tired eyes that had the color of pools of honey when they basked in the light.

he fucking hated it.

the way her hips swayed more than usual and her hands delicately grasped the handrail as she sauntered down the steps to the party. she wasn't apart of it before and she wouldn't be now. he would make sure of it. eventually.

his eyes burned into her even, pale skin. he fucking hated how she acted so oblivious. the way her body wore the blue, striped brandy melville shorts. how they rode up her figure and clung to her in seemingly all the right places. the tiny piece of cloth, that he would barely consider a shirt, exposing the valley of her back when it was naturally arched just slightly.

the way her dark eyes scanned the crowd, occasionally catching a streak of light. the way her lips barely parted. her lashes fluttering as she blinked painfully slow as he watched her. he could've swore she was in slow motion.

she looked out of place. he couldn't stand it. he couldn't stand the eyes on her, glancing over their shoulders. but he was one of those pairs of eyes.

and so were his friends who surrounded him, but he paid no attention to them. his eyes were on her. they had been ever since he caught that first glimpse of her.

he always swore he couldn't stand her, he repeated it more times than his friends could count. he swore he hated her, but his friends saw the way he looked at her.

he always cursed them, muttering that he looked at her with disgust, contempt, hatred. and sure, they saw that.

but there was always something hidden in the glint of his eyes that they couldn't even identify. though they'd never mention it to him.

they'd never question when he would tune out the world to keep his eyes on her. the first time it happened, they'd teased him relentlessly, but got brushed off by him. they wouldn't tease him anymore. not in his presence anyways. more behind closed doors and in light-hearted manner about his silly infatuation.

and not only did they know there was always something more, but they knew how to push the right buttons to prove it. and the way to do it was simply by conversing with the girl, or speaking about her in his vicinity.

he'd always bark back at their remarks about her. telling them to quit, or get lost. because only he was allowed to say such things.

and when they'd raise their hands in drunken defense, laughing it off as they held a beer bottle in their hands, he scoffed at their behavior.

she wasn't his. he reminded them unfailingly, even though he acted like it.

but just because she didn't belong to him, it didn't mean anyone else could have her. he made sure of it. he always did.

she laughed breathlessly, a red flush to her face as she kept the corners of her lips upturned. she was rather engaged in the conversation before her with the tall gentleman she knew as george russell. though she knew he had a girlfriend, so the interaction was nothing more than catching up with one another.

they'd known each other for years, being introduced to the other by their mutual relationship, carmen.

even though she reiterated numerous times that the brit was nothing, but a brother to her, she knew a certain someone would always make a deal out of it.

the interaction between the two lasted no more than a few minutes when george had tapped his finger on her shoulder and lazily pointed behind her, "you've got a secret admirer," he'd joke, shaking his head with a smile before taking a sip of his alcoholic beverage. his curled hair lightly bounced as he did so.

she twisted her upper body. her eyes flickered between faces and bodies to find him, searching relentlessly.

there he was.

with his drink in his hand, his eyes bore into hers so uncomfortablely, she felt chills down her spine. he swore he could see the goosebumps rising on her skin from where he sat, and he would be lying if he said he didn't feel his pants get tighter.

she despised him.

she hated how he'd always find her in a room and never lose her. he'd scare off any guy that even came within ten feet of her, but wouldn't even come as close himself.

she hated the way his eyes were so green, like fresh cut grass, or like the leaves of evergreen trees in winter. the way the light hit them and how his pupils turned to pins, revealing the gold ring of his eye.

she hated his damn skin. the perfect evenness of his tanned flesh. the way his veins were so perfect, like he had lightning from the sky in his very hands. and how they branched up his arms, stopping just as they got to his bicep.

though as much as she loathed when he would intimidate potential hotties who tried to win her over, part of her would be thankful for all the times his eyes were on her. especially with unwanted presences. she had that to thank him for.

a blurred hand waved in front of her face, breaking the contact between her and norris. she breathed a sigh of relief when she once again looked at george.

"and you're telling me you guys hate each other?" he scoffed and shook his head, "bullshit."

he muttered the last thing under his breath, striding away, which prompted her to look back at the green-eyed brit. biting her bottom lip, her eyes travelled down his arms and lightning struck veins. she noticed the dark, silver rings on his fingers and she would be lying if she said her stomach didn't have butterflies.

his jaw clenched as she practically eye-fucked him, god she made it difficult. rolling his tongue over the inside of his cheek, he raised his glass to his mouth. a smirk pulled on the corner of his lips at the thought of her getting turned on merely by his arms alone.

his hand tightened around the object, so harshly it could've shattered. he watched a guy strut his way to his girl.

what? what was he saying, she isn't his. he rubbed his eyes, assuring himself it was the alcohol talking for him.

by the time he focused his vision upon her again, the scumbag he didn't even know had reached her.

to him, it was one thing if he knew them, it was another when he didn't and that's what made him angry. he could trust another driver to back off.

he bit his tongue painfully between his teeth, he could've drawn blood. he was debating on what to do. normally, he would stand from afar, but this wasn't a normal circumstance. he was fed up of the line of guys that pushed and scrambled to even get a chance to say a word to her.

his glass slammed down on the table, the cool alcohol splashing up and back down onto the table and some on his hand. it made the people around him flinch, and his friends raised brows. he wouldn't see, they knew where his eyes belonged. and probably his heart too.

he huffed a dramatic sigh. he pushed himself from the elevated table, the cushioned stool he sat on scraped painfully loud against the wooden floors. but he didn't care. he wanted her. he wanted her away from any guys, at least.

so when he stood up so abruptly, shoving past his friends who threw whistles his direction as he charged to her. he ignored the sounds of their cheers, tuning them out as usual as he tunnel-visioned on her. he swore he saw red.

it took all of three seconds for him to manifest behind her, he towered over her petite frame. but instead of his gaze being on the back of her head, he glared at the guy before her.

the guy noticed lando before she did, but she knew when his arm spread around her back, his forearm folding across the skin of her collarbones. she felt his fingers graze the base of her neck and he played with the gold necklace she had clasped. chills falling down each vertebrae of her spine as his chest pressed against her back.

lando looked like he could kill. he would, and he might.

with a harsh shove to the shoulder, lando told the guy, "back off."

the guy raised his hands in defense, drunkenly muttering a slur of words inaudible to their ears. lando nodded his head to the side, signaling him to get out and the guy stumbled away.

watching lando's behavior and demeanor, other guys in the vicinity took the intiative to scurry away. they didn't want a fight. he did though.

she felt the flush of anger rise in her body as she watched all the guys in the general proximity to her and lando flee. potential and non-potential hotties alike. her tongue rolled across her cheek, and she sighed heavily.

she grasped at the wrist that held her to him. it was warm, contrast to the cold dangling of bracelets and few charms that decorated it. the frigid feeling of his jewelry sent shivers through her arm and down her body, residing in her stomach, more than she would care to admit.

she peeled his arm off her. the warmth that was spread across her chest left when his tanned skin did. but her heart remained fuzzy. why?

she faced him. an obviously unpleasant expression written all over her face. but she still held his wrist in her hand.

"what the hell was that, lando?" she looked up at him through her lashes, but venom flecked through her eyes. he studied the creases in her skin while she furrowed her brows at him, he knew the look. he knew it too well. he would be lying if he said his stomach didn't do a flip.

"what was what?" he muttered in a way that made her think he had a few too many drinks. that he was acting on the alcohol, but really, he was staring at her. he wouldn't admit it though. never.

"what's wrong with you, norris?" she exclaimed to him. her hands lifted, taking his arm up with her as they slapped back down to her thighs, "im not doing this with you. you always do this."

she dropped his wrist and turned around to storm off back upstairs but his hand caught her wrist this time. he pulled her back, her shoulder colliding with the bare of his chest, due to his white shirt that had a few too many buttons undone.

"do what?" his demeanor changed when he clenched his jaw. her strong energy that came at him weakened as she watched the muscles on his cheek. she pursed her lips, her tongue gliding against her teeth.

she glanced around uncomfortablely, noticing the gather of gazes from different groups they'd collected with his shenanigans. she shifted in her stance.

he noticed this. he knew the shift of her behavior when she didn't like something. he knew her like the back of his hand. he hated it, but loved it at the same time.

he'd understood the thought of this conversation being heard by those who surrounded them, it was like there was no escape. but he would create one.

with his hand still grasping her, he dragged her through the crowd. he had shoulder-checked practically everyone he pushed through to get back to the stairs. she nearly lost him in the crowd due to the height of some of the party-goers.

but when they'd reach the stairs, she thought that the pull-along would abruptly end—she was wrong.

she knew how to walk up stairs. she thought it was stupid of him to keep leading her through her own house. he didn't even know where her room was.

except he did. so when he barged into her room, pulling her in front of him to shut and lock the door behind him, she confronted him.

"what is your problem?" she spoke so outwardly now and her voice barely echoed off the walls. she nearly flinched when he took just a few steps to reach the position in which she stood.

"you. you are my fuckin' problem." he spoke lowly, but god, she felt herself turn to putty as he kept striding towards her until her back pressed the cold wall.

she looked up at him and gulped, staying silent, which prompted him to continue speaking.

"you are my problem because you can't stop talking to every single goddamn guy in the world," his head leaned closer, their foreheads nearly touching. she felt like she was getting scolded, maybe she was. maybe she kind of liked it.

but she wouldn't dare admit it.

"and parading around in these-" his finger hooked the waistband of her shorts, pulling them away from her body and then releasing it to slap back onto her skin, "-slutty little shorts doesn't fucking help."

"fuck you, norris." she spat back, their forehead touching and noses grazing. but she didn't anticipate the hand that settled on her neck. the pretty lightning of veins that became more prominent.

she felt his fingers pressured the sides of her neck, her heart rate increasing dramatically. she felt like jelly in his hands, molded into shape.

he scoffed, 'tsk'ing at her words as he shook his head with a smirk. a smirk from him was never good.

he looked into her eyes, a lustful glint revealed with the streak of light, "maybe I'll just have to fuck the attitude out of you."

he watched the way her pupils dilated, the already dark of her eye becoming black as the words left his mouth. she felt a feeling of desperacy between her thighs.

he knew he had power over her. he didn't know he had this much. and just to prove it, he slid his finger up her neck, near her jaw for a pulse. a fast one.

he chuckled lowly, it sounded evil.

he looked in her eyes as his hand slide up the length of her neck, resting just as her jaw as his thumb caressed along the line. his forehead pressed against her.

a phantom feeling of his lips grazing hers, but not closing the space. not yet. not without.

"is it okay?." he asked simply. and she nodded against him.

but it wasn't good enough. maybe for others it would be, but not him. he needed to hear it. confirmation.

"words." was all he said, but she got the memo, rolling her eyes slightly, but nonetheless.

" 's okay-"

it was all he needed. he closed the gap of their lips within milliseconds. the suddenness of the warm flesh against her lips incited a small gasp, which split her lips just enough for him to intrude her mouth with his tongue.

she didn't fight with him. she knew he would win. he always does. even if the odds were never in his favor, he'd play the right cards.

but she was desperate. desperate for the taste of his faded spearmint gum and booze from his mouth in hers. it might've been an odd combination of flavor for anyone else, but to her, it made sense. to her, it was what she's been searching for.

their lips molded together. they were made for no one else but each other, at least that's what it felt like.

lando's other hand traveled down the exposed skin of her side, feeling the rising goosebumps. she felt him smirk against her lips and with the hand tangled in his curly hair, she tugged lightly. she felt the vibrations of his groans in response to her actions.

but it didn't stop his hand that traveled down her waist, and then hips, and then her thigh. she felt the smooth of his palms and fingertips as they parted her legs slightly, coming to rest on the inner most part of her thigh.

she felt her heart thump in her chest, the rising excitement in her body and the want to be touched by him. only him. she hadn't realized how much she could have wanted this to happen until now.

how often she'd find herself on the bed, that laid barely ten feet away, under plush covers with her skin covered in sweat, baby hairs that never grew out sticking to her forehead. how often she'd find herself saying his name rather than anyone else as she had her hands between her thighs, the hand she pictured to be his. like his hand is about to be.

his hand creeping up her skin, teetering on the edge of her laced panties under her striped shorts. he dipped his fingers around the hem before pulling away, teasing the idea of giving into what she had fantasized. but he wouldn't know she got off to the thought of him.

and she wouldn't know he did too, letting her name slip past his lips one too many times while he satisfied himself with her in mind. one too many times too loud too.

their lips split from each other, their heavy breaths only heard by the two of them, and they could still hear the bass of the music that raved downstairs.

her head found his shoulder, pressing herself into the white linen button-up that unfortunately covered his torso. the hand in his hair remained, tugging at his curls every time he did something she liked. her other arm snaked around the back of his neck for support.

he smirked. he hadn't done much yet, and he wanted to keep messing with her mind.

though, lando wanted to give her some satisfaction, so he ran his finger along her clothed core, shaking his head at the strangled moan that slipped past her lips.

pressing the side of his face to hers, she felt his breath pan across her ear, " 'm going to need you to be quiet for me, love. can you do that?"

butterflies in her stomach, her head shook desperately, but once again, it wasn't enough for lando.

"words, darling," his lips met the skin below her ear, his hand slipping beyond the cloth barrier. he felt the heat that radiated from between her thighs, ghostly touching her.

"f-fuck," she groaned, clenching the hair between her fingers, "yes."

"good girl," he smirked against her skin, she felt it but she was too desperate to say anything to prolong what she needed from him.

two of his fingers ran across her cunt painfully slow, feeling how wet she was for him. it was an ego boost to have her like putty in his hand.

her thighs clenched together at the contact, a strained groan caught in her throat as she bit her lip. she knew she was desperate, but she didn't expect herself to melt like this for him.

he lifted her leg apart from the other, supporting it with his hand on the backside of her knee.

lando teased her a bit more, enjoying the struggling sounds that managed to escape her sporadically. eventually, he slipped his fingers all the way into her cunt, feeling his knuckles press her skin. with his thumb, he teased her clit, practically sending her over the edge

he felt her walls clench around him as he remained unmoving for a few seconds for her to collect herself, only to be ruined again as he thrusted his fingers slowly. she struggled to keep it to herself, her eyes were screwed shut and her lip could've bled from how hard she bit it.

but when he picked up the pace, she was gone. she couldn't keep quiet, letting out her moans into his white button tee, which somewhat muffled them.

his pace remained steady, and he could tell she was reaching her point after a while when her moans upped an octave and her clenching around him.

it felt like heaven, a feeling she could've never achieved with her own two hands, she hadn't. but he did.

he slowed his fingers as she came down, pulling out of her cunt and panties. she raised her head and looked at him as sweat coated her forehead, causing those same baby hairs to stick to her skin.

they stared each other in the eyes as he raised his hands, covered in her slick, his mouth. he stuck open his tongue, running his fingers across it and licking them before smirking at her face.

"you taste sweet, darling," he pushed strands of hair behind her ear with his other hand.

he picked her up, his hands under her thighs supporting her weight while he walked a few steps to her messy, unmade bed. he threw her gently, the springs of her bed squeaking quietly against the shift of weight.

she laid, propped on her elbows as lando pressed his knees into the bed. his hands sunk the bed below him as he practically crawled on top of her. it prompted her to lay fully on her back, her hair sprawled on the piled blanket behind her.

one of his hands came to rest at the side of her head. pushing into the bed, he pulled himself closer to her as he dipped his head into the crevice of her neck, biting lightly on her skin.

she'd let out little winces at the feeling, her hands finding the buttons of his shirt, though it seemed half were already undone. but when she spread his shirt to the side, she ran her fingers down his chest, through his light abs that twitched under her cold fingertips. she smiled softly at the happy-trail on his stomach, tracing down it and along to his v-line. he groaned against her neck.

she fetched his belt around her fingers, working the clasp desperately to get it undone. she needed him and he knew that. which is why he is letting her do the work to get to him.

when she'd finally undo it, she pulled it from the loops, tossing it aside on her carpeted floor. she focused back on his dark jeans, fumbling with getting the button undone.

he noticed this, and only because he wanted it as badly as she did, he disconnected his lips from her flesh, momentarily standing off the bed to slip from his jeans, and pulling off the unbuttoned shirt from his body. they laid on the floor to get cold.

and now, to him, she was too clothed. he needed to see her skin, her curves. he wanted her. he wouldn't lie, not at this point.

so he'd crawl back across her, his bare skin appealing to her. his hands landed on her hips as he lifted them in the air. his fingers curled around the elastic of her shorts and panties as he dragged them down leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. like time had stopped and they were the only ones moving.

he'd let the cloth get to her ankles before letting her finish the work, advancing back up her body to rid the tiny top he barely deemed appropriate for anyone other than him to see.

he pulled it over her head, her arms spread above her head as the cold air greeted her chest. he wasn't surprised she didn't have anything under the top, he didn't expect her to in her own house.

he exhaled shakily at the sight of her chest. she was perfect to him. he admired her features from above. the curves of her body that dipped in the right places, the goosebumps scattered on her skin, her hard nipples from the cold air.

he pulled her to towards him by her hips, her wet cunt colliding with the tent that had built in his tent. their groans synced as they grinded against each other, the other thing stopping them was the cloth of his boxers. her clit was sensitive against the rough cotton and she whimpered softly.

he felt the cold sensation of her slick dampen his underwear, practically throbbing to feel her, to have her. low groans escaped his lips, his fingertips digging into her bare hips, turning her skin white.

he, unadmittedly, was desperate for her. he could've torn the cloth of his boxers, but he didn't care. he had money for more but he didn't have this moment forever. he wished he did.

dripping with precum, he stroked himself a few times, looking at her, he could've gotten himself off just to the visual of her.

he moved back over her body, lining himself when she pripped herself on her elbows, "no condom?"

he shook his head, mumbling as he pushed her shoulders back down, " 's fine, I'll buy you plan b, jus' need you," he admitted it. he really did.

she wouldn't lie when she said she needed him too. she had for a while. he seemed to be the answer to most of her problems.

he'd slowly push the tip in, watching her expression closely as she winced. he dipped back to her neck, kissing the skin and leaving more small marks she knew she would curse him for in the morning. but it helped.

it'd also help when she'd dig her fingernails into the even skin of his back, now ruined by red scratches he would stare at for hours after. he would've proudly displayed them if he could.

he shushed her in her ear, slowing pushing himself further into her. he let out of a low moan against her neck. he stayed like that for ten seconds, relishing in the capsulating feeling of taking her.

when he'd move, his thrusts started slow and even, he was cautious. the skin of his hips pressed into the back of her thighs every time he'd push himself all the way in, forcing her to take all of him.

and when her small cries turned to whimpers and moans, letting out strings of curses and his name, every so often, he'd take it as a sign to start thrusting quicker.

moans got louder and the sound of their skin contacting filled the room. he'd force her to quiet down with his hand on her mouth, muffing her unfortunately so pretty moans against it. her head fell back with her chest arching against his.

"eyes on me, pretty girl," he'd manage through heavy breaths, looking into her dark and very dilated eyes. his forehead came to rest against hers and watched her face. her mouth was open, he could feel it against his hand. her skin was flushed and red, skin sweating, making her hair stick to her face. he couldn't be more turned on.

he knew she was close, he was too. like earlier, she clenched around him, her mouths loudening under his hand, increasing in pitch.

she knew he was close by the uneven pace and his thrusts, his eyes becoming half-lidded and his lips glued to her skin

with his free hand, he rubbed circles on her clit, which seemed to set her over the edge as he watched her eyes almost roll back, feeling her walls clench around him.

"fuck," he groaned as he came with her. it was hard not to when he had waiting for this for a long time. too long.

his thrusts slowed greatly as their highs rode away. he felt onto the space or the bed beside her, panting heavily as they laid side by side.

the reality that they'd just fucked set it. they were supposed to hate each other, everyone knew that. but everyone also knew the tension between the two was more than just one feeling of hatred.

he'd disprove his hatred when he'd clean her up gently, with a damp, microfiber towel he'd stolen from the bathroom. he'd pick out a new shirt for her that covered her significantly better than her previous one. he'd dress her, wash her up and put her in bed.

he'd already gotten dressed against when he'd tuck the blanket by her side, he went to walk away, but the sound of her tired voice called to him, "lando, can you stay?"

her voice was sleepy, her eyes were glazed as she laid on her side, but her back was to him. he stopped in his tracks and turned back around. his belt was in his hand, but he'd dropped it immediately. disgarding his shirt and jeans, he dragged his feet against the carpet to the other side of the bed.

when he'd slip into bed, before he could even pull the covers back atop him, she had her arms around him, her face against his chest, and her leg around his waist.

his eyes softened and the warmth of having her against him wasn't so bad. he actually loved it. he would admit that.

he went to bed with a smile on his face and his girl.

the light had shown through the window, the lacy curtains, spilling onto his face. he grimaced at the light, groaning as he sat up in the bed.

they had separated during the night, but her legs remained across his stomach, he ran his hand across her leg, caressing it.

he yawned, taking in the nice, early morning when the door to her room had opened. he'd see his friends looking curiously around the room, seemingly looking for him.

when they'd see him, they silently cheer and giggle. they were definitely going to use this against him. about how right they were.

he chucked a pillow at them, which prompting them to fler before he causes harm. the door shut quietly and he laid back down with his hands under his head.

a smile crossed his face as he felt her against him again.

[lilywastaken]

⇝ together .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART THREE OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: A month after his return, you start warming up to Simon, only for him to ruin it.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!), Fluff for once, Angst, mild nsfw, mentions of child abuse and abuse in general, canon typical violence, choking (not in a sexy way).

A/N: Finally finished!! I'm so sorry I haven't been able to get this out sooner, these past weeks have just been chocked full of assignments I had to finish 😭 I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations!!! Please don't forget to reblog and leave a comment, it helps a lot!!

WORD COUNT: 9.2k

MASTERLIST.

If you want to be tagged on future works, please follow and activate notifications on this account! — @lilynottaken !

Also on Ao3!

"'m blaming this on you."

You grumbled to Simon as you watched your son clap his hands against his father's, happy coos and gurgles leaving him.

"What?" He turned away from Tommy to look at you with a confused look, well, you assumed it was confused by the way his eyes were squinted. "How is this my fault?"

"He's copying you." You yawned, curling into the foetal position and pulling up the blanket over your body, head almost rolling off the sofa as you continued to pay attention to your son and his father's every movement. "You don't sleep so he doesn't."

"Not sure that's how his brain works yet." You could hear the amusement in his words, rolling your eyes as you switched your gaze from them up to the telly, that was playing some football game Simon had put on a few hours ago. "Think he's just not tired."

You know you should've expected this, Tommy's doctor had warned you at the last appointment when he'd gotten his first shots that he might experience some type of sleep regression, which meant more hours of staying awake while watching your son. And maybe it would've been worse for you if Simon wasn't there experiencing the same stress as you were. Weirdly, it felt nice to have another person in the same boat as you, even if he didn't really seem that keen on needing to sleep like you did.

Tommy seemed to had taken a liking to his father ever since the first day they'd both met, but that was kind of a given after Simon had spent the whole month after that coming over almost every single day (except for the days where he'd warned you before time that he'd be gone for work) and spending it all with his son.

You kind of hoped that Tommy had started to recognise him as a father like he did with you as a mother, since he was at the age where he was able to recognise caregivers; but even if he didn't, he did still cling onto Simon's hand every time it was time for him to leave like he did to you, tears bordering at his glassy eyes when you stood at the door with him in your arms waving goodbye to Simon.

You almost started crying every time he'd start making grabby hands at Simon, who'd rest his face against his son's tummy and let his chubby hands pull at the cloth of his balaclava, sometimes even pulling it up over his lips so he could press a quick kiss to his cheek, hiding his face immediately once you came in, unknowing that you'd been watching them before.

It wasn't like the bad blood that you had with Simon had magically been solved, you were still sometimes on edge or a bit snappy at him when it came to Tommy or your "relationship" with him, but you weren't as furious with him as you were when he first showed up.

"Not interestin' enough for you, am I?" Simon grunted as Tommy's attention drifted from the clapping to the telly above him, eyes wide as the presenter talked about some red card.

"You've bored him." You snickered, outstretching an arm to click your fingers, the sound immediately catching your son's attention. "Hi, duck!"

"He's not a bloody cat." Simon grumbled, picking up Tommy carefully from his spot on the blanket you'd draped on the floor for him to lie on, moving him onto your chest so he could cuddle into you.

You were about to snap back when Tommy interrupted you both with a wide yawn, chubby hands clinging onto your sleep shirt and eyes threatening to droop closed, although they were still stuck to the image of the footballers running across the field on the TV.

Both of you froze, Simon having been mid way to getting a toy he'd dropped not so long ago so he was stuck in that position, eyes wide and staring at his suddenly sleepy son.

You placed a soft hand on his back, pressing him further into your chest so the sound of your heartbeat would lull him to sleep easier.

But as luck would have it, a goal was scored right at the moment where his eyes finally fully closed, the commentators shouting out excitement and forcing your son back awake with a cry.

Simon and you groaned in unison, the man finally picking up the toy and collapsing on the ground, lying on his back right next to the sofa and glaring up at the ceiling, listening to you try and calm your son down from his abrupt awakening.

"Who scored?" You grumbled, masking your annoyance with interest.

"Not Manchester." Simon grunted back, raising a hand to take Tommy's, his fingers brushing against your chest in the process. "Haven't had a bloody win in a while."

"Sorry." You mumbled, remembering the disappointment that had shone in his eyes when you'd told him about some of the losses of the teams he liked he'd asked you to take a note of while he was away for work.

He'd done well at keeping his promise, sending you messages every time he had to leave, no longer disappearing without a trace, even if it was just a single day of paperwork or a check up at base. He sometimes also sent you pictures, whether it was him in his car showing you that he was close to your flat in case you weren't prepared for him or the takeaway menu at your favourite fast food place, asking for your order. They were always dark and a bit out of focus, but you couldn't deny that you hadn't let out a laugh when you'd seen the failed attempt of him trying to get out of frame, his skulled balaclava peeking out from a corner of the picture.

He'd been gone for a week this time, which explained why he was being so clingy towards Tommy ever since he'd arrived, takeout in hand and arms itching to wrap around his son, and had spent the whole last hour catching up with the both of you.

"Are you sleeping here tonight?" You yawned, closing your eyes for a moment and trying to ignore the squirming boy on your chest, his hands digging uncomfortably into your clavicle.

"Yeah. Though I probably won't be doing much sleepin'." He rumbled, letting Tommy wrap one of his chubby hands around one of Simon's big fingers. "Y'know I can just take over. Go get some rest."

You bit the inside of your cheek at that, looking away despite still having your eyes partly closed, your grip unintentionally tightening around Tommy's small body.

You were still put on edge whenever you left Tommy alone with Simon, even though he'd shown no ill towards you in any way, you just couldn't help it, the thought that something might happen to your sweet boy when he wasn't under your supervision was enough to strike an unexplainable fear into you. You knew that he'd noticed how your face turned sour whenever it was mentioned, but he hadn't ceased asking completely, knowing that sooner or later you'd have to entrust him with your son like you'd both agreed.

"Is that okay…?" You whispered, your voice barely audible over the cheers and cries of excitement from the telly, but by the way he turned his head towards you and squeezed Tommy's hand, you knew he heard you.

"Yeah. Don' worry. You need some rest."

You both stayed put for a few seconds, your hands slowly falling from their place on your son's back and scooping him up carefully before pushing yourself off the sofa, forcing Tommy's hand out of Simon's in the process.

You watched carefully as he shifted off the floor to sit next to you on the sofa, his built arms moving to cradle his son in their crook, rocking him slowly as you got up, anxiously fidgeting with your fingers as you stood and watched them both for a moment, almost terrified of taking a step out of their vicinity.

"Go." Simon commanded, getting comfy on the sofa as he turned his attention back to the game playing on the telly, the assertive tone that his voice took enough to send shivers running down your spine, nodding your head out of instinct before scurrying away like one of the rookies Simon was oh-so used to ordering around back at base.

After having a well deserved shower and pulling on some of your cosiest pyjamas, you let your body collapse onto your bed, curling into the middle where the mattress dipped and covering yourself up with your countless amount of blankets due to the chill that had overcome the country after a few rare weeks of warmth.

You smiled as you remembered how happy Tommy had looked when you'd taken him out in his stroller and let him bask in the sunlight for a bit while sitting next to him at the park, trying your best to focus on his giggles and not on the shadowy figure of his father standing behind you, more like a bodyguard waiting to take out any threats to you both instead of the father he claimed to want to be.

You let out a huff at the memory of how cautious Simon had been at first around you both, almost like a stray cat getting used to their new family: always standing around you but never too close, bringing you small gifts (i.e. takeout or groceries he thought you'd need or Tommy's new favourite teddy bear he now slept with instead of his duck), slowly making your home his own unconsciously by leaving some of his clothes packed away in a small corner of your wardrobe or packing the fridge with some of how own personal food items.

You'd noticed, of course. How could you not?

At first, when you'd found some of his clothes in the midst of the batch of laundry you were tending to, you were struck with fear. Fear that everything you'd worked hard to build was going to be invaded by this barely known presence you were just starting to get used to, but as time went on, you realised there was nothing scary about it.

It was oddly comforting, in a way. It made you feel less alone when you spotted the extra toothbrush he'd plopped in the glass next to yours, the mug he'd brought over after he'd exclaimed his concern that all of yours were fit for coffee and not for tea or the hoodies he left lying around that Tommy loved curling into whether Simon was wearing it or not.

You pulled a pillow into your arms, simulating the feeling of your son in your arms you'd gotten so used to in order to fall asleep, closing your eyes and letting the muffled sounds of the football game still playing on the TV and your son's faint giggles lull you slowly to your first proper sleep in a while.

You were pulled awake by the sound of your phone going off, your whole body jerking up and rushing to grab it out of instinct, the bright screen illuminating your room and forcing a groan out of you at the disturbance, letting your eyes focus until you were able to properly read the notification.

A frustrated sound left your lips at the message from one of the dating apps you'd forgotten you had informing you that you'd matched with someone, angered that it had been something so stupid that had woken you up from one of the best sleeps you'd had in a long time and not something important.

You fell back down onto the mattress, planning on closing your eyes and curling back into the pillow you'd been spooning moments before, but as your body slowly calmed down from the initial shock that had filled it, you were met with nothing but silence.

Your eyes had adjusted enough at this point that you were able to turn your head over to your door, frowning at the lack of light that normally came from under the door when the living room was lit, raising your head from the pillow slightly in an attempt to catch out any sounds that might be originating from anywhere in your flat.

But once again, silence continued to rule over your home.

You could've just closed your eyes and willed yourself to fall back asleep, but the creeping feeling that it was too quiet for how it normally was, that something might have happened in the few hours you'd let yourself rest was slowly burrowing itself in your mind.

And fuck, what if Simon had done something? What I'd you'd misjudged him? What if he'd taken advantage of your tired state and just fucked off with your son in his arms, leaving you broken and abandoned once again?

The fear that struck your body at that train of thought was enough to wake you up properly, allowing your body to act like it had just consumed countless amounts of caffeine and rush over to the partly open door, slowly pushing it open before looking around frantically, eyes landing on the back of the sofa and on the turned off TV in front of it.

Your hand landed on the headrest, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes landed on Simon's sleeping body, his arms protectively wrapped around Tommy, who was resting on his chest like he'd been with you before you'd gone to rest.

You made it fully around until you were standing in front of the sofa, one of your hands coming up to grab at your thin sleep shirt right over the place your heart was currently hammering against out of relief.

Fuck…

Of course he hadn't left.

You were just being paranoid.

Simon had shown you no ill will the whole time he'd been here, but you were still on edge, assuming the worst from him…

A staggered breath left your lips, your hands coming up to cover your face as you willed your body to calm down, your legs trembling as the adrenaline that had rushed through you momentarily started to fade, leaving you confused and exhausted.

One of your legs threatened to give out, and as soon as you were getting ready to collapse, a warm hand grabbed at your thigh, a silent scream threatening to leave you until you realised who it belonged to, staring down with wide eyes at your son's father, one of the hands that had been cradling Tommy now holding your leg with the same care.

"What happened?!"

You could see the panic in his eyes despite the darkness that enveloped the room, his thumb slowly rubbing up and down your skin, his best attempt at soothing whatever pain you were harbouring that he had no idea about.

He called your name, pulling you closer to the sofa so you were kneeling on the free space of the plush sofa, staring down at Simon's chest and raising one of your hands up to your son's little head, running through his thin hair.

"What happened?" He repeated, more assertive this time rather than the panicked tone he had taken before, his hand moving from the back of your thigh up to your waist, almost like it was natural to do so.

"Nothing…" you finally let out, blinking away some of the tears you hadn't realised that had formed at your waterline. "Just… Uhm…"

"...Nightmare?" He offered an easier excuse than the real reason you'd pulled yourself out of bed at such an hour, slowly nodding your head in agreement and causing him to let out a sigh. "Do you-"

"I'm okay. Just… shaken up." By the way you were anxiously running your fingers through Tommy's hair as if to assure yourself that he was real, that he was indeed lying there asleep (something you hadn't realised up until that moment, Simon had somehow actually gotten Tommy to take a nap.), he assumed that whatever nightmare you'd had was related to him. "Needed to check that he was okay."

Yeah, that cemented it.

Simon would be lying if he said he hadn't a few nightmares of his own about Tommy ever since he'd met him properly, whether it was him forcibly being taken away from you by one of the many enemies he'd made across his life or a freak accident ending any hopes he'd had of all of you being a family.

And maybe they were a bit out of pocket, he'd made it very hard for anyone to trace you or Tommy back to him by always parking his car a few blocks away, making sure that Tommy had your last name instead of his and that the military had no idea about his offspring.

He couldn't have any records that would link you two to him, he couldn't even risk taking that chance, he knew that as soon as two of his weaknesses were revealed, it would only be a matter of time for them to be exploited by his enemies.

So, he understood. He understood the fear that came with a nightmare about your son, the need to see him and reinforce the fact that he was okay in your head.

"He is. Tired 'imself out a few hours ago." He moved towards the back of the sofa, allowing you space to sit next to them both, his hand still continuing to rest on your warm skin and pulling you along carefully, ready to pull away the moment you showed any signs of uncomfort.

"How come he sleeps for you?" You mumbled, more of a thought to yourself rather than something you wanted to share, but it caused Simon to smile beneath his mask nonetheless, raising his other hand up to Tommy's head to run a finger down his little nose, ignoring the way his heart rate spiked when it brushed against yours.

He thought about making a joke about being his favourite, hoping that it would brighten the mood a bit, but then remembered the look of dismay that would come over his teammates' faces whenever he made one about anything, and on second thought, maybe he'd have to wait a bit until you were both comfortable enough to enjoy his stupid jokes.

"Guess he's bored of me. You're much more entertainin' to be awake around." He rumbled, a soft chuckle leaving your lips at what you assumed was an attempt to lift your spirits.

"Yeah…" you smiled, leaning your body on the arm that was propping you up, your hand ceasing its brushing of Tommy's hair and simply resting on his small head, your heart growing bigger as he let out a little coo, snuggling further into Simon's hoodie.

You hadn't even been thinking about the hand cupping your waist, too focused on your son's sleeping figure and the warmth that it brought you, unconsciously wriggling a bit further into the touch, but you froze once Simon's hand immediately snapped back from you, as if he'd taken that as an immediate sign that he had broken a few boundaries by getting too close.

"Sorry."

You bit on your tongue, not wanting to full admit how much reassurance his touch had brought you and how much you'd give to have it back (you blamed the neediness on how exhausted your body was and the delirium that came with the lack of sleep you'd been subject to recently), not making any move to answer and instead focusing fully on your son.

"You want to take him?" Simon offered, leaning further up the sofa so he was kind of sitting, kind of lying on the arm rest. "Don' kids sleep better with their mams?"

"I… I think that may be a myth." You breathed out a chuckle, shaking your head as he made a move to hand Tommy over to you. "No, it's okay. I move a lot at night, I don't - I don't want to hurt him, you know?"

Simon turned down to the fragile little human he was holding, remembering the exact moment he'd realised that you were both in charge of taking care of him, of keeping him out of danger and stopping anyone and anything from shattering the little being that seemed to be made of glass.

"That's fine."

Silence fell over the both of you, an awkward atmosphere forming as you didn't move, feeling as time went on that you were invading the little personal space he was allowed to have in your flat.

"D'you want to stay?"

What?

Your brain short-circuited, blinking at him owlishly, as if he'd just spoken in an unknown language, the words still processing in your mind.

"Stay?" You managed out, looking down at the space between you both, a space where you could easily fit into if you were to snuggle into his side and let him hold you.

But surely, he wasn't suggesting that.

Memories of how he'd held you that fateful night flooded your mind, his warm calloused hands sprawled out against the bare skin of your waist, the sound of his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage lulling you to sleep…

"Yeah, stay."

…It made you want to accept.

Made you want to melt into his side and wrap an arm around his wide chest, tangle your fingers in your son's soft hair and lie there with them both, making sure that no harm could come to Tommy thanks to the protective shadow that was Simon Riley.

But you couldn't. You knew that.

The walls you'd built while carrying Tommy in hopes that you'd never be hurt or abandoned again, the walls that had kept you relatively safe within the expanse of your mind refused to crumble, refused to make way for the man that had come barreling back into your life and threatened to destroy them.

You couldn't risk it.

So, you didn't.

You pulled your hand away from your son as if he burned, cradling it against your chest and looking away from Simon's imposing stare, the look in his eyes making you want to squirm and cry and adhere to anything he wanted.

"No." If you'd still been looking at him, you would have noticed the way his shoulders slumped, the way the dim light in his eyes proceeded to disappear at the single word that left your mouth. "Thanks."

It seemed every little step of progress you'd both taken together the whole month immediately dissipated away thanks to his idiotic question.

Of course you'd fucking refuse his stupid invitation, what was he thinking? That you were both a happy couple who didn't pass on any chance to hold each other in your arms? That he was your husband, the proper father of your son who you loved and cared for, who you enjoyed having pressed right against you? He was a fucking idiot. He couldn't contain himself for once in his life and he'd gone and ruined everything.

"Okay." Despite the inner turmoil that raged inside of him, that simple word of affirmation was all he could get out, and he hoped to whatever god was up there (that apparently loved torturing him) that you'd both wake up the next day without a single recollection of what had happened last night.

"Good night." You whispered, pushing yourself off the sofa and wrapping your arms around your chest, immediately regretting every single one of your actions that night as you gazed upon how truly comfy and warm Simon and your son looked snuggled together, wishing that you had the emotional capability to let your resentment go and indulge in Simon's touch.

"'Night."

You willed yourself to take the first step back, tearing your gaze away from them and heading back to your bedroom, your face erupting into warmth out of a mixture of embarrassment and sadness, a clear sign that your body wanted nothing more than to just burst into tears and let Simon wrap you up in his arms and soothe you down like you knew he could.

You buried your face into your pillow as soon as you made it back into your now-cold mess of sheets, tugging one of the pillows back into your arms and doing your best to imagine that it was someone else, someone else who was as willing as you'd imagined Simon had been before to have you in their arms, to stroke your hair and calm you down because they loved you, because they cared about you and wanted nothing more than to see you as happy as you'd been a mere few hours ago.

You passed out soon enough, a few tears running down your cheeks as you subconsciously wrapped yourself around the pillow like a koala, the tear stains quickly disappearing during the night and lacking any evidence that they were once there when Simon walked through your door in the early morning, standing at the side of your bed for a few moments before he leaned over, pulling up the covers and tucking them around your sleeping body.

The sound of the shower coming alive and the pipes groaning was the thing that pulled you awake, struggling a few moments to rid yourself of the covers that pushed onto you, wondering to yourself when and how you'd tucked yourself in so aggressively, turning your head towards your bathroom and listening to the clinking of shampoo bottles and the water as it hit the tiled walls.

Your bathroom was unfortunately directly connected to your bedroom, so in order to get into the shower, Simon would have had to pass by your bed and… tuck you in? Did he really tuck you in?

You pulled languidly at the covers, looking down at your nightwear and growing warm as you saw how transparent your shirt looked in the morning light, leaving almost nothing to the imagination of whoever were to look down at your chest.

Simon had seen you like that.

You squeezed your eyes closed out of embarrassment, as if he was right there judging you with his stupid thousand yard stare, lifting yourself off the mattress and looking around your wardrobe for a shirt, restoring to a band one you'd stolen from one of your ex boyfriends you'd never had the heart to throw out.

You were mid straightening it out, your previous night shirt now pooling at your feet, when the door to the bathroom opened, your immediate response being to wrap your arms around your chest and let out a cry of warning, turning around so he was facing your back.

"Fuckin'-"

"Go back in!" You cried out, wanting nothing more than for the earth to burst open and swallow you whole, feeling too tired to be dealing with this kind of embarrassment at such an early hour of the morning.

You cracked an eye open as the door closed, letting the grip you'd had on the shirt go as you faintly heard Simon curse, trying to erase the memory of what had happened out of your brain.

As you pulled on the shirt, you willed yourself to think about anything other than the glimpse of flesh you'd seen before turning around, the wide chest that had been littered with the scars he'd once let you trace over, the towel around his waist that had barely cov-

Stop!

Unknown to you, Simon was having a similar dispute with himself from inside the bathroom, resting his flushed face on the cool tiles of the wall as he listened to you shuffle around your room, cursing himself out for being so goddamn stupid and exiting the bathroom without even checking if you were awake or not.

That wasn't the only reason he should've checked, he thought you'd still be asleep, so stupidly, he'd gone out with barely any coverings, including the one on his face, so he was pretty sure you would've seen the way his eyes almost immediately darted down towards your chest if you hadn't been busy enough with covering yourself and ogling at his chest.

"Fuck…" he breathed out, running his fingers through his hair and looking at himself in the foggy mirror, the tired, broken stare of a being he could barely consider a man staring back at him.

After a few more moments of staring at himself he couldn't bear it anymore, grabbing his discarded balaclava and pulling it over his what he considered broken face, his other clothes continuing as he did his best to cover every single patch of skin he could, hand landing on the doorknob once he was finished and asking for confirmation.

You'd about finished putting on the shirt when he'd piped up from inside, letting out a small "you can." before he opened the door again, face now covered and eyes darting down at the oversized shirt you'd pulled over your bottoms, closing it behind him.

"Didn't know you'd be changin'." He grumbled, his way of apologising without saying the exact words, eyes scanning the band on your shirt. "Y'like Joy Division?"

"Huh?" You looked down at the shirt, straightening it out to properly look at the band you'd forgotten was plastered on the front, shrugging slightly. "Yeah, they're good. I'm, uh, not the biggest fan. This was my boyfriend's."

"Boyfriend?" He spat out, almost with malice.

"Ex." You clarified, pulling at the ends of your shirt out of nerves, the way he was staring down at you reminiscent of how you'd assume higher ups looked down at their soldiers when they were in the wrong.

"Right." He grunted, looking away from you and training his stare at the bedroom door, nodding towards it. "'M gonna go check on Tom."

He brushed past you, leaving you standing in the middle of your bedroom twiddling your thumbs, confused and embarrassed due to the interaction you'd just shared.

You walked into the kitchen, stopping in your tracks when you noted that the dishes you'd left last night after Simon had brought take away had been cleaned right up, the plastic bowls from the curry thrown away in the recycling along with the other trash you'd used when making Tommy formula (you resorted to using that instead of pumping or breastfeeding when Simon was over).

God, now you felt even worse for what had happened last night.

You rubbed your hands all over your face, digging your nails into your scalp as you ran them through your hair, snapping your head up as your heard your son giggle, going back a few steps to look through the crack of the door, your chest tightening as you watched Simon feed Tommy, murmuring a string of words you were too far away to understand.

Fuck, you really felt awful.

You pulled out a few ingredients, acting almost on autopilot as you fried the sausages and toasted the bread, making his tea subconsciously the way you know he liked it (he'd never forced you to make tea, you'd seen the sticker on a takeaway cup he'd left on the counter), and pouring it into the cup he always used.

"You didn't have to." Simon mumbled as he walked out of the nursery, holding the empty bottle of milk in one hand and a plastic bag with a dirty nappy in the other, looking down at the plate of food you'd made him.

"I wanted to." You mumbled, taking a bite out of your own buttered toast as you watched him walk around the kitchen, throwing away the bag and cleaning out the bottle before starting on his breakfast, standing at the island instead of sitting like you were. "As thanks. For, uhm, cleaning up."

"It was nothin' deserving of this." He mumbled underneath his breath, shoving a spoonful of the baked beans into his mouth, now visible thanks to him pulling up his balaclava, the taste of the normal breakfast he'd have at whatever café he normally went to complete shit compared to yours.

"It's fine. I went a little overboard, it's been a while since I've cooked for someone."

He let out an amused huff, nodding his head. "Yeah, babies don' really need a full brekkie."

You both went silent after that, your eyes looking around at everything but at him, secretly hoping that he was enjoying the food, wishing you would've put on the radio or the news so you weren't sitting in complete silence.

The tapping of his fingers against the counter finally pulled your gaze towards him, watching him carefully as you continued to eat.

"Laswell called."

Laswell?

The face you made must've made him realise you had no idea who he was talking about, his hand coming up to grab the mug of tea and take a long sip before speaking again.

"Station Chief Laswell." You nodded along, hoping that he'd believe that you actually knew what he was saying. "She's got a mission f'us."

Oh.

"When?" You spoke out, a bit choked up as you tried your best to focus on the food instead, you always got unexplainably nervous when he left for a mission, despite the fact that he always came back.

"Gotta be there by 1."

You turned to look at the time on the microwave, the 09:00 displayed there striking unexplainable fear in you.

"You should get going, then."

"I should."

Neither one of you moved.

"Did you say goodbye to Tommy?"

"I did." He took a final sip of his tea, placing the cup down and turning to look at the nursery, the strangling pain he felt every time he left you coming back to haunt him. "Changed his nappy too. Like y'taught me."

You smiled at the memory. A few days after he'd first shown up you'd tried your best to teach him how to change Tommy and you'd gone through almost 10 nappies by the time he'd been able to put one decent enough (you'd quickly changed it yourself after he'd turned around, you didn't want the nappy to cut off your baby's circulation), so you hoped that he'd actually done it properly this time.

"Thank you…" You offered him a small smile, looking down at your own cuppa, wrapping your arms around the now lukewarm mug. "Go get ready. I'll clean up."

Simon really didn't want to, he wanted to continue standing there talking to you, gazing at your tired face and how cute you looked taking small bites out of the food you'd made that you'd undoubtedly wouldn't finish and would slide over to him like you'd done all those times before.

But he couldn't. He was a soldier. One that was trained to kill and follow orders no matter what and no matter the circumstance, one that would be laughed at if he called in saying he wanted to stay with- well, whatever you were to him.

He was about to zip up the duffle bag he'd left in your room during his small stay when he caught a glimpse of something he'd forgotten about.

The gun was relatively light in his hand, one that was smaller than the ones he was used to carrying out in the field, but could quickly figure out how to use in the span of a millisecond.

He called out your name, rapping his knuckles against the counter to catch your attention, raising his arms in surrender as fear filled your face, dropping the plate into the sink and taking a step back as soon as you caught sight of the gun.

"Simon! What the fu-"

"It's not loaded." His other hand waved around the magazine, placing them both down on the island in front of you both. "I'm not going to use it."

"I would fucking hope so!" You cried out, wiping off the soap suds on a towel and pressing your back into the counter, gripping the edge of it as if he was really threatening you with the gun.

"Do you know how to shoot one?"

You shook your head. You'd never even seen one this close apart from the rare policemen that carried one, let alone held one.

"Come." He picked them two items up, walking back into your room and waiting for you at the door to follow, worried about what he was planning on doing. "Where would you keep a gun?"

You turned to him with a raised eyebrow, once again expressing your confusion with a single stare before turning to the bedside table closest to the side you normally slept in, pulling the drawer out and immediately growing warm as you gazed down at the string of condoms along with some other items.

"Here, I suppose…" You watched him sit down on the bed, the mattress immediately sinking beneath his weight as he raised the gun and magazine up into your line of view.

"Take it."

You shakily did as he said, the gun feeling heavy in your palms in contrast to how easy it had felt for Simon, turning it around a few times as he continued to speak, pointing out every single detail and part of what he had soon let you know was a Glock.

"It's the one most policemen carry. Not very heavy, but still capable of takin' down a man." He murmured, almost letting out a chuckle as he took the gun and cocked it, making you jump at the sudden sound.

"Why would I want to take down a man?" You asked tentatively, taking it back from him and trying to fit in the magazine like he'd instructed you to.

A warm hand came up to cover yours, stopping you in your tracks and allowing him to get up and take the firearm from you, pulling out the magazine and placing them both in the drawer, trying his best to ignore the other items that were scattered around.

"Listen to me." He turned his head as he slammed the drawer shut, staring directly into your eyes to make sure that you were paying attention. "I cannot ensure your safety while I'm gone. There's tons of fucked up people who'd take whatever change to tear me down and would not think twice about using you or Tommy to do so. This is just in case. You only use this if you or Tommy are in imminent danger. If there is someone threatening any of you, you do not hesitate, you take the gun and use it."

Use it.

Use it!?

His hand came up to cup at your cheek, pulling you out of your swarming thoughts so he could be sure you were listening.

"I- Simon, I can't- I'll go to jail if I use it, I can't-"

"You won't." He interrupted, shaking his head. "I won't let them. You're under my protection, this is just in case of emergency when I'm not around."

You nodded, not knowing what else to do, the gun that had been in your hands mere moments ago feeling like a burden despite it being locked away.

"Oi. Lovie, look at me."

That immediately caught your attention.

"Tell me you understand."

Your mouth had gone dry, the combination of the shock behind his little surprise and the nickname that had slipped out of his mouth proving to be too much to handle.

"Tell me. You understand."

You took a deep breath, nodding your head. "I understand, Simon."

Even after he'd left, you couldn't shake yourself off that foreboding feeling, terrified that the moment where you'd have to use the gun would arrive sometime soon, the thought of you or Tommy coming into danger while Simon wasn't around enough to make you want to crumble into tiny pieces.

You'd stood by the door like you always did, although this time Tommy was fast asleep in his crib and your arms were empty, leaving you to say goodbye to Simon (although looking up into his eyes, you knew he wasn't Simon anymore) all by yourself.

"When d'you think you'll be back?" You whispered as he opened the door, not wanting to disturb any of the neighbours that might be loitering around (despite knowing that news about the terrifying man that resided in your apartment had travelled quick after he'd threatened your neighbour), handing him his jacket.

"A week, tops. I'll send you a text as soon as I know." He grunted, shoving on his jacket before pulling up his duffle bag, swinging it over his shoulder. "You need anythin', you call base, okay? They'll relay the message if it's necessary."

He'd given you the number to his base a few weeks ago, but you knew you'd never have the heart to call it, too embarrassed that the little problem you were currently having was nothing compared to what Simon was going through, and you didn't want to disturb any of his work if it really wasn't that important.

"Sent you money this morning. You got enough for a month." He went through his mental list of everything he should say to you before going, leaning against the door frame and looking down at you through heavy eyelids. "Get some takeout, don't strain yourself any more than you already are. Doctor said you should take it easy."

You dismissed the urge to roll your eyes, cursing yourself out for even allowing him to take you to the doctor in the first place and listen in.

"I know. I'll be fine, Simon. You just worry about yourself."

"Always do." He said, nodding his head as a form of goodbye before pushing himself off the doorframe, heading towards the elevator and leaving you standing there, only closing the door when you heard the front door close from all the way downstairs.

— I think he misses you.

— Won't let go of the teddy bear even though it's all dirty :(.

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

God, if Simon wasn't wearing his mask he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to contain his smile, zooming into the picture you'd sent him of your small boy lying in your bed fast asleep cuddling the little plushie he'd gifted him.

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

— More.

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

He hoped you understood what you meant by that, and by the way a few more pictures loaded in within seconds, he was glad you did.

He had to print some of those.

He'd once made a joke about one of the soldiers who wore a picture of their beloved in a small locket to Soap, commenting how it reminded him of the soldiers in WWI, when they were really just on their way to disarm a bomb.

But now he felt the need to have some type picture of you both or trinket that you'd given him right in the pocket over his heart, one that he could easily pull out in the middle of a mission to remind himself of why he was doing this, of why he couldn't let himself get caught by the enemy, of why he always had to come back to you.

He couldn't even bear the thought of his dog tags arriving at your doorstep instead of him one fateful day.

"Your nephew?"

Ghost snapped his head up, meeting the curious gaze of his captain and the bright orange tip of his cigar. "What?"

"Your nephew." Price gestured towards his lieutenant's phone, where the picture of Tommy drooling around one of his toys was still displayed. "You told me about him once at that bar in Vienna. What's his name?"

"Joseph." Ghost answered, shaking his head. "No, he's… Not a baby anymore. Must be a bloody teenager by now."

Price hummed, taking another puff from his cigar before looking away, squinting his eyes from the sun, wishing he'd been as smart as Ghost by bringing a pair of sunglasses.

"So."

"So?"

"Who's he, then?" Once again, the captain looked down at the dimly lit picture, where he could barely make out the features of the little boy, but by the onesie and plushie, he was able to decipher the not so difficult puzzle.

"He's…" Ghost trailed off, taking one last look at the picture before turning off his phone, sliding it into one of his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest. "No-one."

"No-one?" Price huffed out, amused. "So you just have pictures of random babies on your phone, is that it, Lieutenant?"

Ghost flared up at his captain, the frown obscured by the sunglasses he'd put on after the clouds had dispersed, but by the way his body had tensed, Price could only assume he'd pissed him off.

"Name's Tommy. That's all you're getting." He grunted out, looking away from the older man like a child admitting to something embarrassing.

"Like your brother?" Price commented, letting out a groan before sitting down on the wall next to Ghost. "Isn't that a coincidence?"

"No, she didn' know when she named-" Ghost stopped himself from saying anything further, the slip of the tongue already having revealed the existence of a 'she', and he did not want to say any more.

"'She'?" Price grinned, blowing out some of the smoke before bringing his cigar up to his lips. "Come on, Simon. We're not on duty, are we? Not your captain right now."

He'd promised himself to keep quiet. He couldn't have anyone find out about you or Tommy, he couldn't risk having that information out in the open, his weakness out there for everyone to know.

But Price… Well, Price was different. He'd saved him multiple times across the span of time he'd spent working for the army, he'd been the one to pull him out of the deepest of holes, the one to trust him enough to allow him to join the 141.

They trusted each other.

"She's… I don't know." He let his head cock back, looking up at the forming clouds. "I knocked her up."

"Fuckin' hell, Simon." Price breathed out along with some smoke, turning to look at him with a sort of horrified and disappointed stare. "You're a dad?"

"Yeah."

"Christ, you're makin' me feel fucking old." He grumbled, taking the phone from Ghost as he handed it over, squinting at the dimly lit screen. "Cute little bugger, isn't he?"

Ghost smiled beneath his mask, watching Price scroll through the countless pictures you'd sent him across the month he'd been back, resisting the embarrassing urge to point out small details of every picture like an art major in a museum, instead keeping quiet and itching slowly to grab his phone back.

"Think you're a good dad?" Price asked, taking Ghost back a bit as he slid his phone back into the confines of his pocket, shrugging his shoulders as he squinted at two figures in the distance.

"Not the worst. Don't think he's got the mental capability to recognise if I'm good or bad to 'im. Least he doesn't cry every time he sees me." He breathed out a chuckle, snapping his mouth shut as he saw Soap and Gaz approach, the conversation sizzling away as they plopped down next to them both.

As the others started talking about another topic, Ghost thought about the question he'd been asked before more in-depth.

He wasn't a bad father, right?

He wasn't like… that.

Simon would be caught dead before even thinking of inflicting onto Tommy the same pain his own father had inflicted onto his family.

Imagining his small boy going through the same trauma, the same horror, the same fear he'd felt during his childhood was enough to tear his cold heart apart.

And he'd never treat you like his father had treated his mother, he'd never subdue you to the same pain she went through every day, he wouldn't let himself fall into the circle of abuse that had started way before his own father.

And Simon wasn't perfect. He knew that.

But he wouldn't stoop as low as his father had during the beginning of his life, where instead of the love and care a child was supposed to receive from his parents, he received the abuse and pain that no one deserved.

Just like him.

He closed his eyes as he remembered the burning shouts as his father berated him, always comparing the both of them and forcing Simon into tears, the mere thought of ending up as horrible as his father reducing him to sobs.

Even now, he still felt sick when he'd stare at the pictures of his father his mother still kept around her room in the nursing home, horrified whenever she'd point out their similar eyes and same blond hair.

But he wouldn't end like that. Despite whatever physical similarity he shared with his father, they had nothing in common personality wise.

Simon wasn't a monster.

He wouldn't hurt you or Tommy.

He wouldn't let anyone hurt you or Tommy.

He was a protector, a soldier trained to serve his country and the civilians who resided within it.

And he would protect. No matter what.

"S'alright, lovie… Jus' me."

"Simon…" You breathed out, letting your eyes flutter closed as his hands roamed the exposed skin of your chest, broken lips pressing kisses the whole way up to your jaw.

"That's it… Such a good girl f'me… Pretty, pretty girl." His warm hands cupped at your chest, pulling another whine out of you as he toyed with your breasts. "My good girl, right?"

"Mhm…" You mumbled, letting your head loll back onto Simon's shoulder and look up at him through tear covered eyelashes, your brain not functioning properly to process the blurred mass of what you assumed was a man's face staring down at you with those beautiful eyes, his breath hitting your lips as he leaned down to press the kiss you'd been longing for for so goddamn long—

Your body jolted awake, an uncomfortable ache between your legs quickly making itself known as you tossed around in your messy bed, brows furrowed as your brain tried to catch up with your suddenly awakened body.

What had you even been dreaming about?

You rubbed at your eyes with your wrists, digging them deep enough so you saw a few blinding colours, letting go and resorting to staring up at the ceiling.

You didn't even bother checking your phone, already knowing that the only notifications you would have received in the few hours you'd spent asleep were the ones from the dating apps you still didn't have the energy to delete.

None from Simon, of course. He'd been gone for over two weeks by now, which wasn't surprising, since he had let you know that this mission would be a long one and had warned you in advance.

Considering the last mission he'd gone on was almost a month ago (and had only lasted a few days, you think he finished as soon as he could to be back with Tommy, by the way he'd barreled through the house to get to the nursery) and that you and Tommy had gotten him all to yourself for about two weeks straight, you'd expected him to be called sooner or later.

You weren't really looking forward to him coming back, since you'd have to break the news to him that he'd missed Tommy's first attempts to sit up without support and the success that came after.

Luckily, you'd filmed most of it, although you did end up throwing the phone on the sofa to congratulate your son personally, pressing kisses to his chubby rolls and listening to him giggle before accidentally helping him fall back onto your bed, causing him to burst out crying.

Okay, well, maybe you could just edit the final part out.

You were pulling the covers over yourself, snuggling back into the warmth of your mattress before attempting to close your eyes and fall back asleep (hopefully to return to whatever dream you'd been having before), when the sound of the creek of your floorboards snapped you out of it.

Your heart stopped, listening out for any further sounds, breath hitching in your throat as what you feared you'd heard continued, recognising the footsteps going from the living room into the kitchen.

You leaned over to your phone, hoping to God that Simon had finished the mission early and had sent you a quick message telling you he'd be coming back soon, but as you unlocked the phone…

Nothing.

So whoever was walking around your house was not Simon.

You heard muffled whispers, too quiet for you to understand but loud enough to send a cold shiver down your spine.

It terrified you. That cemented the fact that there was actually someone in your home, walking around like it was nothing.

But there was more than one voice. Two. Or was it more?

You assumed the sound that had woken you up had been the door opening, which inflicted even more fear into you at the thought that they must have had a key instead of knocking your door down since the sound hadn't been enough to stick with you after pulling you awake.

Your eyes instinctively darted over to the bedside table, where Simon's gun still laid untouched every since he'd "gifted" it to you, staying frozen until one pair of feet got a bit too close to your door, mind racing and adrenaline pumping through your veins as you scrambled to open the drawer as quietly as possible and pull out the gun and mag with shaky hands, carefully pushing it in before cocking it, hissing at the loud sound it made.

You stepped out of bed, body shaking as you neared the door with the heavy gun in your hand, listening out carefully for what they could be saying.

"—ce gaf. Didn' expect this from ya."

"You're a classy one aren't — your sofa?"

The voices were broken and muffled, leaving your brain to try its best to complete them.

God, this was terrifying. You could feel your whole body shaking, waiting for the moment where it could give out.

It's okay. Deep breaths.

You can do this.

The doorknob rattled, the moment it twisted seemingly happening in slow motion, your heart skipping a beat before you raised your gun up to the attacker, finger grabbing at the trigger just in case they made a dangerous move on you, your frantic eyes meeting the surprised ones of the man you were currently pointing a gun at (which you'd never used before, mind you).

"Steamin' fuckin'-"

You didn't even have time to react before his arm instinctively raised towards you, hand grasping at your throat in an instant, like the only thing he'd been taught to do was to kill.

"What the fuck are you doing!?"

You heard a familiar voice roar as the hand tightened around your throat, the gun now abandoned at your feet as your hands scratched and tugged at your attacker's hand.

The last thing you saw before your eyes clouded over was the large shadow coming up from behind your assailant, their face one that despite the tears that blurred your vision you could tell was ready to rip apart someone.

You didn't even have time to think if it was going to be you or his partner.

TAGLIST: @selfassassin @ess-perspective-blog @crazyfandomist @webreathfandoms @warners-wife @prodyng @gaycrystalbitch @uhhely @mentallynot-here @jordanwalkersworld @skepticalleo @bratsukisworld @screamingoverfiction @comedinewithmeyeh @gojosbucket @mikasakuchiki @jonhswife @tea-effect @thelittlejinx @cafesho @daddylorianisastateofmind @63sucker @simpingforleoandnico @simonsslvt @embers-of-alluring @uriahs-sketchings @alexisv15 @alexkellersleg @jordanwalkersworld @tabalugax @diekoniginvonfernet @thatoneautor0123 @technicallyvirtualmilkshake @littlezarp @crazyfandomist @hypernovaxx @am-3-thyst @madamemelancholysstuff @lylesx @anxietydrogz @jaymum @coacaiyne @emmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa @ghostsfavhoe @maviee @pedropascalswhore @d4z01 @beakami (if your name is in white, it means I couldn't tag you!)

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (22)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: oral sex, sexual tension, smut, angst, swearing ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He cursed himself in his head for giving in to her, for letting her fly on Larax, soaring towards the skies on Vhagar, looking out for her from afar with a clenched throat. Despite the fact that she hadn't run away with Daemon, he couldn't get over his fear that she would flee, that she would abandon him again.

That she would rip his heart out.

A sigh of relief left his lips as he caught sight of the shining, shimmering blue and silver slender figure of her dragoness in the distance, finding with satisfaction that they were heading in the right direction. He turned over his shoulder, terrified as he flew over them and heard a squeal below, Larax terrified by Vhagar's sudden presence panicked.

He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sigh when he heard his niece's commands, and after a moment her dragon calmed down and joined him, flying a little lower at his side.

He could not contain an involuntary smile of satisfaction as he felt the heat that filled his heart at the thought that here was his dream come true, and he was at last roaming the skies with his wife.

Although Aegon sometimes allowed him to accompany him on his visits to the Dragon's Pit, when he could get a close look at Sunfyre, it brought him neither joy nor comfort. He knew it was their mother who had forced him to take his little brother with him, thinking it would help him, meanwhile it only deepened his grief and sadness.

It wasn't his dragon, but his brother's, so what was he to be happy about?

His attitude, however, was quite different about his niece's dragoness when their betrothal was announced.

She was to become his wife, and as a wedded pair they were to share everything with each other, so he felt that he could also partly acknowledge Larax as his own.

When he saw her for the first time he thought that only Sunfyre matched her beauty.

Larax had blue-silver scales shimmering in the light of day, her nature gentle and docile, at the sight of his betrothed she acted and squealed in excitement like a small, happy child.

At first she hissed at him when he tried to approach her, however, when his niece took his hand in hers and placed it on her back, Larax allowed him to stroke her and from then on she accepted his presence with calmness.

Her scales were rough and sharp, yet smooth and pleasant to the touch, sparkling with various shades of blue like a gems, making him gasp in delight.

Looking at her now, he could not get out of his mind how she had grown, how wide and slender her wings were, with what lightness she swirled in the air.

Compared to her, his beloved old Vhagar was like a great flying stone fortress.

When they arrived, his wife landed by the fortress itself, but he had to find a lair for Vhagar in which she would pose no threat to anyone; he finally spotted a small grassy hill from below and ordered her to lower her flight, finally landing with a sigh of relief.

For some reason he was both joyful and terrified of what awaited them, hundreds of thoughts running through his head.

What if Rheanyra wants to kidnap her? What if she orders her to stay in the Eyrie? What if they reject their terms?

What if he has to kill them?

Despite the beautiful sunny weather and the wonderful journey at his wife's side, these gloomy thoughts consumed his mind completely. When he finally reached the gates of Harrenhal and spotted the figure of Larys Strong in the distance, he only prayed that he would be allowed to rest at least for a moment.

He glanced at his wife, who smiled at him uncertainly, tense, something about the person of Larys Strong or the woman standing next to him had obviously made her uncomfortable.

He decided it did not matter, tired and sore from sitting in one position, and directed his words to the heir of Harrenhal.

"Lord Strong. Take us to our quarters."

Larys Strong did indeed direct them straight to his rooms, much more modest and cramped than those in King's Landing. He pulled off his leather gloves, frustrated that the Lord kept speaking and speaking and speaking, glancing up at him only when he mentioned that he had prepared other quarters for his wife.

No, he thought.

Her place was with him.

They were staying in a nest of vipers and he had no intention of letting any of them bite her.

"No need. My wife will spend the night in my chamber." He said impatiently; Lord Strong raised his eyebrows as if genuinely surprised by his words.

"As you wish, my Prince. However, I will leave the rooms I spoke of at your wife's disposal for her own convenience. I have also assigned her a servant to ensure that while we men are conversing, she will have company. There are several matters I would like to discuss with you." He said lightly, and he pressed his lips together, casting a tired, enraged look at his wife, who stared at him with her big, warm eyes full of understanding.

They were both exhausted, but nothing could be done.

He sighed and nodded, ordering her to leave them alone, leading her and the woman who had followed her away with anxious gaze.

Was this the famous Witch of Harrenhal?

What if she does indeed cast a spell on her?

What if she pours poison into her honey or wine?

Larys Strong snapped him out of his reverie by sitting down at a table standing just beside the window, leaning his staff against the back of his chair, sighing softly.

"Your grandfather has conveyed to me what matter has brought you here, my Prince, and has asked me to personally take care of everything if the matter gets out of hand." He said meekly, as if he had just been telling him about the weather or what meals would be served to them at supper.

He felt an unpleasant shiver run along his spine, a cold sweat on the back of his neck as he threw him a quick, shocked look, his heart pounding like mad.

Lord Strong seemed amused by his reaction, a smile appeared on his face from which he felt an unpleasant squeeze in his guts.

"I have my little birds in the Eyrie who chirp to me about everything that happens there. Daemon and Rhaenyra arrived there this morning − they will also spend the night there after your negotiations. If their answer is not to our satisfaction, the matter will be resolved in a slightly different way."

He swallowed loudly, trying to calm his breathing, feeling like if he moved even a little he would vomit immediately, disbelief, shock and horror vibrating through his entire body.

They wanted to take advantage of the fact that they felt safe in their kin's fortress.

They wanted to kill them.

They wanted him to betray his wife.

He answered nothing, unable to even find the words for what he was feeling as he stared blankly out the window, noticing the silhouette of Larax shining in the sunlight, his hands clenched into fists.

"It is for the good of the kingdom, my Prince. War is no one's desire." He said lightly, rising on his staff, walking with difficulty out of his chamber, leaving him alone with the cold, terrifying chill he felt in his chest.

He pressed his lips together, trying not to cry like a child.

What if Rheanyra did not accept their terms?

What option would be left for them?

He felt devastated at the thought that none.

There would be nothing that could be done.

They had to do anything to make them agree.

They had to lie.

His mind was filled with dark, gloomy thoughts as his wife stepped into the chamber where he and Larys were already seated, waiting for her to begin supper. He squinted as he saw that her hair was entwined around her head in braids, for some reason he felt frustrated thinking that this was surely the witch's idea.

What were they discussing?

What had she said to her?

"Beautiful hairstyle, Your Grace." Said Lord Strong; he pressed his lips together, impatient, thinking he was a fucking snake plotting how to kill her mother while throwing her sweet, empty compliments.

He wondered, horrified, if, as far as she was concerned, he and his grandfather had their own plans too.

His wife expressed her gratitude to him with a happy smile and turned her eyes on him, her gaze bright and warm, completely unaware of what was happening around her.

"And you, my husband? What do you think?" She asked lightly, and he licked his lips, furious, horrified, devastated.

"I prefer it when your hair is loose." He replied drily, feeling however instantly remorseful at the look of sadness, pain of rejection that flashed across her face. She blinked and lowered her head, swallowing quietly as she grabbed for her cup, his heart beating harder at the thought that the wine might have been poisoned.

Nothing happened to her, however, and she did not look at him again for the rest of the supper, smiling despite her distress, exchanging courteous remarks with Lord Strong. When she rose, saying that she was exhausted and wished already to prepare for sleep, his heart pounded harder.

"As soon as you have finished, come to my chamber." He commanded. She nodded and left, leaving them alone.

There was an awkward silence between them.

"Your wife is indeed a sweet and innocent creature, my Prince." Lord Strong said, and he cast him a stern, furious look, sensing the subtext in that sentence, some kind of malicious threat from which he felt unpleasant chills running through his veins.

"If anything happens to her, I will rip out your tongue, I will gouge out your eyes, I will cut off your hands; I will cut off parts of your body piece by piece until only your torso and your head remain. Do you understand?" He asked in a low, calm, cold voice − Larys Strong looked at him piercingly, a smile on his lips from which he felt that terrible squeeze in his stomach again.

"Yes, my Prince."

When he returned to his chamber he was just a bundle of nerves, pacing around as if in a trance, terrified, confused, horrified, thinking only of the fact that he needed her, that he had to look at her face, speak to her in private, come up with some plan, anything from which he would be able to sleep a wink that night.

Should he tell her or not?

What if she decides that his family has betrayed her, that she can't trust them?

What if she panicked, if she changed her mind at the last minute, changed sides?

FUCK!

He waited and waited and waited, and she did not appear. He growled loudly, burying his face in his hands, desperate and impatient − the tension in his lower abdomen caused by the lack of their closeness for the last few days was unbearable for him.

He didn't want to make her suffer discomfort when she was already in such pain, thinking that if he waited and let her rest, he would thereby prove that he didn't just care about their physical intimacy, that he respected her and was willing to wait.

He broke from his seat, deciding that enough was enough, and walked out, heading aggressively with a quick step towards her chamber, opening the door with a loud slam. He froze in place, looking in disbelief at the scene before him.

The Witch of Harrenhal held his niece's hand close to her face, kneeling by her tub, his wife submerged in the water with only her nightgown clinging to her bare body, which was clearly visible through the thin material.

For one brief moment it seemed to him that the woman removed her free hand from under her skirt at the sight of him.

What the fuck was she doing?

Both of them looked at him in shock − the witch stood up and bowed to him, bending her head humbly.

"My Prince."

"− get out −" He growled enraged, feeling his whole body quiver in fury, his hands clenched into fists.

The woman left the chamber without a word, and he rushed towards his niece like a lion about to pounce on its prey − her large eyes widened in shock, her lips parted in a hastened breath, her cheeks all flushed in a way she looked when he took her in his bed.

The thought enraged him even more.

"− what is the meaning of this? − hm? −" He hissed, looking at her expectantly, but she merely raised her shoulders in a defensive gesture, her hand clenched on the edge of her tub.

Gods, give me patience, he thought in fury.

"− can't I leave you alone even for a fucking moment? −" He asked with rage as if he had just reprimanded a small, disobedient child. She blinked, clearly trying to get something out of herself after all.

"− I-I asked her for help −"

What?

"− help with what, that she had to kneel beside you and hold your hand? − you are fucking bare −" He burst out, not believing a word she said, her cheeks turning scarlet at his words, the innocent hot look in her eyes killing him.

"− I − I can't tell you, it's embarrassing −"

"− gods, I swear I'm about to rip you to shreds −"

"− we were discussing embarrassing feminine matters − she showed me something…important − for you too −" She finally mumbled out, and he furrowed his brow, understanding absolutely nothing of her explanation, increasingly frustrated that she wasn't telling him the truth.

"− I want to know what this brazen whore was doing to my wife −" He growled in a cold, enraged voice, and she swallowed hard, knowing he was about to explode.

"− very well − I − I will try to show it to you − just − just don't get upset and sit on the bed −"

He was distrustful at first, but did as she asked.

And then his concerns, his fear and terror vanished, replaced by a complete dullness of his mind due to the surprising delight that the touch of her soft, warm lips on his fat, throbbing erection gave him.

When she added her fleshy, moist tongue to her caresses, licking the pink, swollen head of his cock with its tip he thought it was over for him.

He fucked her throat like there was no tomorrow, panting loudly with clenched eyelids, holding her hair in the firm grip of his hands, thrusting his hard cock deep between her sweet lips with the deep stabs of his hips, moaning helplessly as her tongue teased him with the sticky click of her saliva.

She squirmed loudly as he quickened his pace, again and again hitting the back of her throat, tears of exertion running down her cheeks as she tried to breathe loudly through her nose to keep from suffocating.

"− I know − please, please, let me − oh, fuck, yes, swallow it, swallow, swallow, swallow −" He mumbled out panting heavily, tilting his head back as his seed spilled down her throat at last. He heard her cough quietly, shocked, and swallow loudly, some of his spend trickled from the corner of her mouth down her chin.

It was the most indecent sight he had seen in his entire life.

Indecent and wonderfully beautiful at the same time.

"− come − come here − your husband need to take care of you −" He breathed out, grabbing her around the waist, lifting her lightly, sitting her on his lap. His niece sat down on top of him, cupping his cheeks in her hands, joining their lips in a hot, sticky kiss, her tongue slightly salty from his seed.

His cock pulsed hard at that thought.

He turned and threw her onto her back on the soft bedsheet, pulling her wet nightgown off of her, his swollen lips running over her sternum down her stomach leaving a wet, warm, sticky trail behind. Her body quivered all over as he took her thighs in his hands and spread them in front of him, her hands trying to stop him from doing what he wanted to do when his face leaned over her heat.

"− n-no − I'm still dirty −" She mumbled helplessly, embarrassed; he gasped at her words, looking at her swollen folds, from between which her moisture leaked, running the tip of his tongue over her sensitive, fleshy womanhood. She tilted her head back with a moan of delight and desire, her body arching like a string, her hips involuntarily pushing forward to meet his lips.

He couldn't deny himself this, he was too desperate, too terrified, he needed her too badly to stop, to stop himself from sinking his mouth into her weeping cunt, begging him for fulfilment, the tip of his nose running over her bud while his tongue teased her opening with lazy, slow licks.

"− who made you so wet? − her? − hm? −" He hummed, feeling her quickly shake her head, her hands tightening in his hair, pressing him closer, wanting more, her breathing quick and raspy.

"− n-no − I was thinking about you − about you deep inside my mouth −" She muttered, a low, throaty groan escaping his lips that flowed in vibration through her body at her words, his cock swelling all over in his breeches at the memory of what her sweet mouth had done to him as he peaked deep into her throat.

"− did you enjoy it? − the taste of your husband deep in your belly? −" He cooed, sliding his tongue deeper and deeper into her tight, puffy slit; she cried out loudly at his question, her moist walls clenching greedily around nothing.

"− y-yes − oh, gods, please − put it inside me −" She begged, repeating it again and again, his fingers digging deep into the soft skin of her thighs.

How could he deny her?

He lifted himself up on his arm, panting hard, directing his once again swollen erection at her entrance – she was so wet that he thrust into her with one deep push of his hips. They both threw their heads back, delighted at their closeness, at how shockingly pleasurable and intimate the experience was.

"− I've waited so long for this − fuck, this warm cunt is my doom −" He exhaled, despite her cries and the shudders that shook her body imposing a fast, aggressive pace on her at once, pounding into her with the brutal, deep thrusts of his hips, her insides slick with her moisture, making their bare skin slap against each other with a sticky smack again and again.

"− u-uncle − ah − mghmm −" She mumbled, clenching her hands on the material of his tunic, responding devotedly to each of his stabs with the rocking of her hips, her eyes closed, her puffy lips parted sweetly in pleasure.

He leaned over her and kissed her greedily with her sigh of delight, his tongue full of her flavour bursting deep into her throat as he pressed her to the bed, thrusting into her so deeply and quickly that he was hardly slipping out of her.

They both moaned loudly and tightened their fingers on each other's bodies as she threw back her head in wonderful fulfilment, through which her fleshy walls began to squeeze and suck him inside. He cursed under his breath and sighed in relief as the heat in his lower abdomen became unbearable and his seed filled her again, this time taking root in her womb.

They both rocked their hips for a while longer, whimpering and panting into each other's mouths, their lips brushing and teasing each other, their hands stroking each other's faces and hair as they tried to calm down and come down from their peak. He fell on top of her at last without strength, closing his eyes, nuzzling his nose into her hot cheek; he murmured contentedly as her tiny fingers combed through his hair.

"− good gods − I needed this so much −" He muttered, allowing himself to feel like a small, helpless child again in her arms, with his eyes closed, focusing only on the tender, warm touch of her hand.

"− me too, my beloved −" She whispered, and he felt the heat in his heart, the love for her that filled his members like a living fire.

And then he felt a cold sweat on his back, his heart thumping hard at the memory of Larys Strong's words.

It is for the good of the kingdom, my Prince.

War is no one's desire.

He opened his eyes, looking at her soft face, at her closed eyelids, at her lips parted in a calm breath. She murmured with a gentle smile as his fingers ran over her cheek − he felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that perhaps he should tell her.

But what if it was necessary?

What if Rheanyra and Daemon didn't agree, what if they threatened his grandfather, his mother and his siblings?

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, not making a sound when a single, solitary tear of pain and grief ran down the side of his face onto the pillow beneath their heads.

A peaceful, deep sleep did not come to him that night.

Instead he fell into restless slumbers, during which he dreamt that for some reason his niece had stayed with her mother in the Eyrie, that a servant boy had walked into her chamber in the night and cut her throat.

That she had tried to scream his name, her husband's name, terrified and distraught, but only a grunt had escaped her lips.

He awoke with an aggressive tug, feeling his heart pounding like mad, looking down quickly at her body snuggled into his chest, entwined with his legs. His arms closed her in a tighter embrace with her silent sigh, his face sinking into her soft, fragrant hair, inhaling her addictive scent.

The next day, just before they set off to the Eyrie, he left her bed reluctantly, telling her, while she was still sunk in half-sleep, that he would only go and change into his riding attire, that she would not eat or drink anything but wait for him outside the fortress gates.

He was afraid that someone would try to poison her.

He stepped into his chamber feeling that he was shaking all over, repeating in his head the elaborate plan he had devised.

He would lie that she was expecting his child.

That they were in fact supported by the gods themselves, that his father was right when he said that the kingdom could not be divided.

That if he becomes king-regent until his child is born, his queen-wife, her mother and Daemon will be given a seat in the Small Council.

That their family will have a say in all things concerning the kingdom.

In the meantime, they might actually be able to beget an heir, he thought, trying to calm himself down, and then all their worries would resolve themselves.

He tried not to think about what would happen if a daughter was born to them, or if they did not beget a heir at all, if his grandfather began plotting again fearing that it would be Daemon and Rheanyra's children who would sit on the Iron Throne.

They had to agree.

He shuddered, turning away impatiently when he heard the door to his chamber open, wanting to ask the servant how much longer he had to wait but froze, spotting the silhouette of the woman who had driven him to such fury only the day before.

"− get out, woman −" He growled, grabbing the tunic lying on his bed, deciding that he would rather dress himself than let this woman touch him.

She was manipulating his wife's mind, perceiving her innocence, her desires, and trying to inspire her confidence, to approach her in a way that was indecent and unacceptable.

"You will betray her."

He felt his heart stop for a moment when he heard her words and he froze, swallowing hard. He looked at her over his shoulder with his eye wide open, feeling his nostrils quiver with each of his terrified breaths.

Her eyes, the colour of an intense, bright green, seemed to pierce him to the core, something in her gaze that made him both uncomfortable and embarrassed at the same time.

"You will betray her at the moment she trusts you the most. You will break her. You will achieve victory, but she will never let you touch herself again. You will come back here to face your nephew and you will take me, because you will decide that I am similar to her enough to satisfy your despair and longing. You will put your child inside me, your bastard son, who will rule Harrenhal after our death."

Tears of horror, shame and disbelief gathered at the corners of his eyes as he saw her smile full of mockery and superiority, a shudder of disgust shook his body as she bowed before him and simply walked away, leaving him alone with her words ringing in his ears like a bell.

He felt that awful, overwhelming constriction in his stomach again, from which his head spun, barely managing to grab the bowl that lay on the table before his insides twisted in convulsions.

He vomited.

[neonovember]

Coming in HOT with some ANGST and FLUFF, having SUCH an intense emotional fight with Carmen one night. Maybe you’re both arguing about the opening of The Bear or finances or even just with communication in your relationship, Carmen just snaps about how you weren’t always this hostile. Just losing it on him and in tears crying out “YOU LEFT!! YOU LEFT ME CARMEN!! I understand what happened with you and your brother, but you just fucking left and didn’t even say goodbye!! You know how AWFUL that made me feel?! Like all of a sudden after everything we’d been through! It was like suddenly I was another face you just cut out and forgot about. It took me MONTHS to stop even just thinking about you. And then when you came back? It was as if nothing happened, but I was SO happy you were back….and now you always act like I’m some inconvenience that’s always in the way!!!! So what do you WANT Carmen?! Do you want me to stay or is this another New York situation?”. You can see Carmen’s heart shattering in his face as he just crumbles at the end begging for forgiveness 🥲. It ends maybe with the both of you holding each other in the kitchen “I’m so sorry” “No no….it’s okay….I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that…”

All for you

this request was so good! your brain anon..😍 i hope i did it justice, this is part one of two because i always seem to be extending things that should be a one shot! i'm thinking part two should be from carm's pov? what do you guys think??

warnings: shouting, self deprecation, angst to the tenth power, no happy endings, carmen is so so so bad at communicating, unresolved tension/anger, new york carmy!

Loving Carmen was a lot of things. 

It was the smoulder of colours brushed onto a canvas, it was the crash of waves in the middle of the pacific, fighting and thrashing against each other until it took you under and below. It was the spoonful of honey that eased the bitterness, it was beyond your control. A love so smouldering and bright that you didn't quite know if your heart could fit it all.

But it was also difficult, like dragging a 50 pound steel anchor every way you went. You were forever grateful to have Carmen in your life, again at least, but it wasn’t exactly like the things that he had struggled with before he wasn't struggling with even more now. 

You were patient, you tried to be at least. When he wouldn’t pick up your calls for hours, when he was so caught up with work he forgot to eat, when he was so caught up with work all the last of his energy was spent on you and not himself.

You loved Carmen too hard to let him destroy himself for his work, even if he hated you for it, you couldn't watch him crumble and break from the stress of the restaurant and the overwhelming pressure he put on himself. 

Especially when you saw him begin to unravel before you, melting hot wax crackling and setting form. He had begun to throw back bottles of pepto like it was water, crunching on tums like popcorn any chance he got, and it wasn't like the restaurant was doing bad, in fact it was doing amazing. Yet, it was that fact alone that made Carmen get worse, made him slip into the sinking black hole that told him one moment away from the shop, one glance off of his work and it would crumble into ash.

You had seen this in New York, where he would call you during the depths of the night, the sound of his stuttered sobs breaking any resolve you had left. You had raced to throw on a jacket and bring a pot of soup to his place even when he protested. You fed him whilst he shook against you, you whispered stories until he fell asleep, you kissed his curls.

You wondered if he knew.

You find yourself doing the same thing now, like an endless dance you both are bound to, every rational part of you wants to hate it but you can't deny the way your heart shimmers in want. Your mind moves with the familiarity of it, chasing after him like a game of cat and mouse.

Only this time you live with Carmen and not in a dingy shoebox in New York holding back every ounce of love you wanted to pour into him. 

Carmen’s mind was forever connected to food, it was something so automatic it fell unconscious under his skin. You found amusement in the way he’d stand in the middle of your apartment living room in quick critic over the late night cooking shows that you would turn on whilst waiting for him to come home, or the coffee around the corner he swears isn’t actual beans. 

But your soup, and anything else you made was something he had always reserved with a certain adoration. He’d whisper into the anonymity of your neck under the covers, recounting how your food was akin to a warm hug, coming home to the smell of cookies and a house of laughter and light he wished he had growing up.  

You hoped he had actually eaten something today, but it was that belief that evaded your mind as quickly as it came when you reminded yourself who Carmen was. It was push and pull, and you would be damned if he didn't finish your food and then some.

Your job allowed you to work from home, and you don’t know if it was your laziness or intelligence that enabled you to make it so that you only had to work a couple hours in the day. It was sometimes strange to Carmen, how you could be able to find love and creation in something without putting everything into it.

Carmen was always watching you, he found peace in it, the moves and motions of you all over the apartment, the scent of your body wash, you toothbrush next to his, you were a movie right in front of him and he would watch you for eternity if he could.

You turn into the back of the Bear, parking between the faded white lines before turning off the engine and staying in the car for a moment. You hated the cold, and your breath had already begun to blow out misty clouds every time you exhaled. Collecting the warm container of soup and a sandwich you quickly jog towards the restaurant, taking the back door when you notice Manny leaving.

“Hey Hun, how ya doing” Manny nods towards you with a warm smile

“Hey Manny, just coming to get Carmen to eat something other than tums” 

“Chef is definitely wound tight, mix up on a new delivery of some kind of fruit? Forgot the name.. It's spiky and smells like when we moved out those ovens and found those burnt onions and stock stuck to the floor” Manny replies with a wince as you both recall the devastating smell that hadn’t left your nostrils in weeks during the renovation.

“Uh, Durian?” You reply and Manny clicks his fingers at your reply.

“That's it. That mind of yours is really something. He hasn’t taken a break since the morning, but you always have a way with him” Manny raises his eyebrows and you shake your head with a laugh

You only remember that particular fruit because Carmen had been obsessing over a new menu item that included it as its main component. He had spent sleepless nights perfecting it, despite it being utterly magnificent the first try. You couldn’t shake him from his work, it could consume him for months if he let it, and you feared he was at the precipice of falling into that hole once again.

You walk through the back hallway leading up to the main kitchen, passing by the tired hunches of the shoulder dressed down in crisp white shirts and aprons. The Bear had a late start today, Sydney suggested opening a little later for a full dinner menu rather than lunch as well and the turn out had shocked you all.

It also meant Carmen came home even later than he already did during those nights, you’ve had to damn near carry him to the bath to get him to not drop dead the second he came home. You didn’t mind however, you couldn't deny the faint thrum of your heart content as you washed Carmen’s hair whilst he lay against you half asleep. 

You spot Sydney at her station, and you quickly walk over to see her prepping for dinner, the swoop of her knife cutting into red meat in a kind of curve you knew she had perfected over the years.

“Hey Syd, early start?” You say, once your side by side with her

“Oh don’t remind me, can you believe the L got backed up from all the ice last night? Added a whole 45 minutes to my commute” Sydney groans out, shaking her head as she turns to you. Grateful to have a reprieve from her repetitive cutting.

“Goddam Chicago, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve got a bottle of wine with your name on it in my fridge and it is dying to be opened and shared by two very, very tired women” You reply, smiling at the way Sydney raises her eyebrows gleefully at the thought.

“I am holding you to that, as soon as we get through today. God, this new dish Carmen has thought up is kicking my ass” Sydney replies, and your ears chirp at the mention of the man you’ve been looking for.

“Speaking of Carmen, have you seen him?” 

“Yeah, I think he’s still in the office, been on call with one of our vendors cause of the mix up with the--”

“Durian, yeah. Thanks Syd” You reply, giving her a nod before making your way to the hallway leading into the office.

You hear Carmen before you see him, the sound of his loud voice seeping through the cracks of the door. His voice rises as he gets more and more agitated, and you don’t miss the sound of a cup being thrown against the wall as the phone call continues, not waiting a moment before firing back muffled words you can hardly make out except

“Unprofessional” “waste of my time” “fuckin’ dick”

So yeah, you thought it was definitely a good time to walk in and get your extremely agitated boyfriend to eat your soup.

Just as you walk through the door, you see Carmen slam the phone back onto the receiver, shouting out obscenities at the object as he throws his chair back onto the floor. Years working together has made you unfazed by his outbursts of anger, though you have been sly in trying to get him to go to therapy so that he doesn't get an aneurysm over the phone with the Wifi company or something hilariously trivial.

“Hey Carm” You say, whilst closing the door, and Carmen look up at you in surprise, his features sobering, as his eyes relax into a comforting gaze.

“Ah shit, sorry bout that, just some stubborn, pig headed vendors who don’t want to fix a problem they fucking caused” Carmen replies, his chest rising rapidly as he takes sharp inhales of oxygen. 

He turns to face you and you take in the sunken look of his cheeks, the skin a little discoloured like he was sick, and his hair dishevelled and falling flat against his face like he's run his hand through it too many times.

“Jesus Carmen, have you gotten any sleep?” You reply, instantly as you make your way over to him, pressing a hand on his shoulder.

Carmen shudders against your touch, shaking his head as he leans back and away from you. You stumble as you look down at your hand now inches away from his shoulder in confusion. Carmen never turned you away from him, in fact during those unforgiving times of anxiety and anguish, when he felt the entire sky falling, you would be his anchor to bring him back.

The fact that he had visibly shuddered when you touched him made your heart ache, and it hurts even more when Carmen notices, the guilt spilling into him.

“Just been so busy” Carmen replies, his eyes darting everywhere but you, as you nod with a tight smile, backing away from him.

You reach for the soup you've left on the edge, placing it on the desk and you nod to it

“Have you eaten today?” You reply and Carmen stops watching you, blinking slowly as he tries to remember the last time he's actually consumed something, before coming up empty and shaking his head up at you with a groan.

“I thought so, you need to eat Carmen, how can you expect to function let alone run a restaurant if you aren't at your optimal level” You reason, leaning against the table, with your arms crossed against your chest.

“It’s fine, I was just gonna grab something small” Carmen waves you off

“Actually, I brought you food right now so I think it would be a perfect time-

“Is that why you came? To micromanage me like some toddler” Carmen suddenly replies, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you through half lidded eyes.

“I- what? I didn’t-”

“I can run my restaurant blindfolded with my arms tied behind my back, alright? I don’t need you to come and patronise me like you know every goddamn thing” Carmen spits out, and you can't help the way your blood runs hot, the rhythmic beat of anger pounding through you like a hammer.

How fucking dare he

“Excuse me? I came here for you Carmen, not some self-righteous moment to say I'm better than you. God damnit, is that what you think? I came here to make sure you didn't faint and fall into a pot of boiling hot water” You spit out, Carmen looks up at you, hes blues swimming in ire as he lets a humour-less laugh rumble through his chest.

You felt all the things you had kept a lid on begin to tumble out of your mouth, and soon you’re anger morphed into a building current. The flashes of everything that had gone wrong, the lack of communication, the coming home late, it all has begun to accumulate rapidly and you let it consume you in its entirety. 

“Sure, of course,” Carmen sings. “I’m not your fucking child alright? You are my goddamn mother so stop treating me like you need to make sure I eat 3 times a day and have my nightly bath. I’m a grown man-”

“Then ACT LIKE IT!”

Carmen looks up at you in surprise, his brows knitting as his head swivels back from your outburst. You had never screamed at him, in fact, Carmen can’t remember a time where you had screamed at anyone like you did now as you stare him down deviantly. Eyes burning with a fiery anger that begged to be stoked. Carmen knows this, your hands shake in tight fists like your seconds away from swiping him, and he resorts back to his usual self destruction of turning back and running away. 

“Yeah, yeah that's right, walk away, walk away like you always do. Carmen, soon enough you're going to have to face it you know? You’re gonna have to face your fucking issues before it destroys us both” You scream, and Carmen pauses, causing you to stumble. Carmen turns around to face you in the middle of the hallway, the rush of anger present on his cheeks, causing the veins to bulge out on his neck and he looms over you

“Issues, I have fucking issues? You’re screaming at me because of goddamn soup”

“It’s more than fucking SOUP!” The screech of your voice bounced across the thin walls of the restaurant hallway, your throat begins to burn as you begin to swallow down the emotion bubbling within you. You want to reach into him and rattle his neck, force him to see the destructive path he was taking, force him to do anything but turn away and shut you out.

A quiet trepidation falls over the entire kitchen as they watch you both fight, it was unheard of, an anomaly that seemed wrong, like someone had gotten a couple from the street and put your faces on it.

Watching you both fight was like watching a performance. The way you both leaned into each other menacingly, neither of you backing down, there was an indefinite energy that bubbled between you both, you were seconds away from shocking each other or making out. 

“What is it then huh? Why are you acting like this? You expect me to read your goddamn mind? You’ve changed alright? Everyone can see it, I can't even recognise the person in front of me half the time” Carmen sneers, his neck turning a crimson red as he clenches his jaw painfully. He’s holding himself back, his body shakes with it, the tight clenches of his fist stopping him from putting a hole in the wall or smashing a chair.

“I’ve changed? Me?” You cut yourself off with a chuckle, Carmen shifted his gaze as his eyebrows knot in confusion, and when you catch a glimpse of his face you can’t help the booming sound from crawling up your throat, keening over as the sick sound of laughter rocks through your body.

The rest of the team now watches on in horror, you were laughing, why are you fucking laughing?

You try and gulp down the uncontrollable fit of laughter, you can practically feel your body shift down into the jagged memories from all those years ago. From a place and time you had shuffled into a no named cabinet and thrown into the deepest depths of the ocean. 

You didn’t want to remember, you begged your mind to forget, but as your laughter slips into sharp inhales, you already can taste the wetness streaming down your cheeks, and slithering down the slope of your neck.

Your sob’s rack through you, winding you until you hunched over, reaching out onto the wall to steady yourself and trying to find footing as the ground caves beneath you.

Carmen recognises it in an instant, taking a tentative step forward, raising his arms before dropping them in a second, like he was approaching a volatile animal.

“Fuck, I’m sorry I-” Carmen starts, but you’ve already raised yourself from your hunched position, the tears dripping into the linoleum floors and splashing onto your combat boots.

You didn’t want to face that time in your life again, but Carmen has practically forced you too, and there's no way in hell you weren’t going to drag him down into that bordered off well. Fuck being the bigger person.

“No no, you spoke, this is my fucking turn now” You grunt out, the rippling grief leaving your body in a flash as you sneer over him.

Carmen gulps back a retort, his mind re-circuiting, trying to figure out your polar behaviour. Carmen knew better to interrupt you now, in fact the restaurants was a pin drop quiet, safe for the whooshing sound of the central air corn, and the sound of Carmen's stuttering inhales.

“YOU listen to me” You spit, pointing a finger, pressing it into Carmen's chest so hard he stumbles back

“You fucking left me Carmen. You! You- just, you dropped everything we had, everything we ever built in New York and you disappeared. And it was Mickey, and you needed to be there and I got that, I get that, but you- you just left me there.” You grunt, biting back the swell of emotion that erupted when you thought about those years ago. 

“You became a ghost, and god,- you could have told me, after everything I thought we had- you could've told me! But then you didn't. And I was left to pick up the pieces, wondering if you had ever loved me, wondering if I should have given half of myself to you whilst you couldn't even call me back” You stutter out, shocking back the onslaught of tears as you swallow around the lump in your throat.

Carmen’s face pales as he registers those years ago in New York, the immediate look of guilt and anguish twisting his features as he leans onto the wall for support.

Even after all these years, all this time, you still felt it like it was yesterday. All your work had become undone, the thin veil of healing had been stripped back to bare bones in an instant, and you hate it, you hate it so much. Why couldn’t you have packed up and moved on? Why did you have to fold back into yourself at those memories? You don't know what you're seeking now, vengeance, restitution, it all becomes blurred in the heat of it, and god have you wanted to strip your skin and wake up restored since that night.

“You ruined me for a year Carmen. I was a shell of myself because of you. And then you called me that afternoon and you know what? I wanted to throw my phone into the fucking Hudson. I wanted to rip my hair out and scream and hurt you like you hurt me because the truth was I already forgiven you before you even apologised. And you never did. And I still wanted to come back to Chicago for you.” 

“Honey-” Carmen's strained voice shudders at your words, and you can make out the red of his eyelids, the tears collecting at his lids.

You hold up a hand, stopping Carmen from speaking, tears begin to form at your waterline, threatening to break, your vision blurs, the features of Carmen’s tormented face becoming wobbly and undefined. 

You were so sick of crying, you were so sick of it.

“And I won’t ever make you keep paying for a mistake for the rest of your life, I let go of that anger because you needed my help and in some way, I fell in love with you all over again, I was able to make peace with it.” 

“But you don't think I know you Carmen? When you overwork yourself to death you can barely eat? When you get bad again at calling me? When you were good, you were the best person in my entire world, but when you're like this?” You shake your head into the empty space between you, hands waving in front of you. 

Carmen looks torn apart, his hair falling flat against his forehead, his hands in tight fists as he shakes his head against your words. Begging, on his knees, begging for you to stop, to stop saying those things that came from your mouth that were not true. His body shakes with it, the gushing feeling of guilt, it washes over him in waves.

His mind is going a mile a minute, every thought of work, of that mismatched order he had to deal with, of the vendor who refused to deliver, it all went out the window the second your face contorted in that heart aching way. He can't lose you, every fiber in his being yearned for you, he lived for you. And here he was losing you, like a brush of paint across a canvas.

You were slipping from him every second you stood there with tears dripping down your cheeks like a stream.

“You’re the one that's changed. You're the one who's always changing. Don’t throw it back at me just because you can’t see it” You mutter with a shake of your head. Your voice carries a finality with it, and you jerk from Carmen when he takes a step towards you. You can't breathe in here, and you pass by the concerned gases of the rest of the Bear, shaking your head and moving away from Sydney, before dipping back into the busy streets of Chicago. You bite your tongue the entire way until the taste of copper fills your mouth.

Folding yourself into the huddled waves of mundanity, leaving your soup and the last bit of your aching heart on the bench of Carmen's office.

[authoreetea]

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing ; rafe cameron x reader

summary ; rafe lost you

warning ; angst!!:( sorta feminine y/n

note! taylor swift inspired again 😛 she is my inspiration. I hope u likieee

I smoothed the skirt of my dress, and straightened my back. It was yet another night forgotten by my boyfriend, Rafe.

It was supposed to be our fifth anniversary. I prepared his favorite meals and wore his favorite black dress, but I can't say I'm surprised. Each year I felt our love fading. Despite all my efforts trying, trying to build it up again.

He just can't commit to me. I wanted to be a bride, and he's out there making his own name. Ever since his father died and left him, he took over the business, which did nothing to help our deteriorating relationship.

I stood up from my chair, the food in front of me was cold along with the untouched silverware that sat and waited an hour and half with me. Another meal, another dress, another day disregarded by him.

Cleaning it all up, I put the food in the fridge and started putting the plates away. Until I heard the door. He walks in with a tired look on his face, and his formal shirt unbuttoned.

He sighs deeply when he sees me putting dishes away. He sits down by the bar, his hand running through his hair until his face, he was obviously exhausted and so was I.

Somehow, Rafe Cameroon still managed to look good while tired and beat up from work. His blue eyes were a window to the blissful memories we had when we were young and in love. The once vibrant connection between you two began to unravel, threads of affection fraying under the weight of unspoken fears.

I stood in front of him, tired of all the times I stepped down and lowered my standards for him. "You forgot." I simply said, monotonously as I grabbed the bottle of whiskey from his hands and pulling it away from him.

He makes a frustrated face at the loss of his alcohol, just as he is confused. "Forgot what? I just need a drink, y/n." He said, his voice deep and weary.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "What day do think it is, asshole? Am I the only one to care for this damn relationship?"

He pulls his hand up to rub his temple. He lets out a groan, "It's just Wednesday... 16." Rafe's blue eyes widen as he realizes what is so significant in this day.

I let out a loud sigh, frustrated. I turned my back at him and walked out to our room. He groans again before following after me.

"Look baby, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to forget, I've just been so busy." He tries to resonate, with the same excuse all the time.

"Oh please, Rafe. The same damn excuse every single time, I'm so sick of it!" I said, incredibly upset at his antics.

"Please, baby. I'll make it up to you, whatever you want."

"You always say that! I want to be in a relationship where you don't need to make up for anything, Rafe! Don't you understand?" I cry out, tears starting to pool in my eyes.

"No, you don't understand! I am under so much pressure right now, y/n! And I need you to understand for now." He says, obviously irritated.

I look up at him, with my brows furrowed and my lips pouting.

"Really, for now? We've been playing around like this for a year, Rafe." I say, quieting down. I held onto myself as I felt dizzy, wanting to curl up into a ball and cry my feelings away, but this had to be done.

Rafe looks at me pointedly, about to say something but I beat him to it. "We... We've been through so much, my love. But it feels like we're slipping away, yet we're still at the same place we are five years into the relationship..." I took a deep breath, my voice wavering and tears softly pouring.

"Do you even see a future with me? Were you ever gonna propose to me, Rafe?" I ask softly, trying my best to cover the shakiness in my voice but failing.

"I'm sorry, y/n but you know that's not for me, especially right now with everything going on." He quietly says, His eyes were haunted and distant, actively avoiding mine.

What used to be lit with love and filled with joy, this room was bleak and the air was miserable.

I could feel my heart shattering. I smile at him sadly. "Three years, even before your father died, you've been saying that. Why can't you commit to me?" My voice was shaking, so were my hands. I was sounding desperate, my vision was blurred with tears and the lump in my throat kept forming into something bigger.

He takes a deep breath, walks towards me and cups my cheek, brushing the stray tears away with his thumb. "You know I'm not good at it, never have been." Rafe said, a painful admission of his own shortcomings. The realization hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

I pull away from him, pushing him with my palm against his chest. "We can't keep drifting like this. I won't settle for uncertainty, Rafe."

"I'm sorry, y/n." He says, out of words to try to mend what is happening.

I let out a hollow chuckle, my eyes still pouring waterfalls. "I wouldn't marry me either, I guess. I just wanted you to see me again."

His eyes softened. "It's not like that, baby. I will marry you, just not now." He says, reaching for my hand.

I pull away. "If not now, Rafe, when? in another five years?" I say, desperate as I gasped for air.

"I mean, why not? If it means still ending up with you I would take the chance, y/n!" He says, his eyes wide and pleading.

I shake my head no, "Rafe, I can't. I cannot keep waiting for a commitment that may never come." I whispered, my heart breaking with every minute that passes.

He keeps muttering no. Rafe understands what this is leading to and it scares him. He looks at me begging, grabbing for my hand. "Y/n, please don't do this. I'll marry you right now, don't leave." He says, his eyes teary and his hair was messy.

I smile at him with tears in my eyes, "Not like this, Rafe. Maybe this is better for both of us." My voice was so quiet because If I was an pitch louder my heart couldn't handle it anymore.

Rafe's once lively blue eyes looked at me with regret, "I'm sorry, baby. please." he says, pleading and almost as desperate as I've been feeling.

I shake my head no, and for the last time, I turned and walked out.

And with that, the fragile fragments of our love slipped through our fingers, lost to the winds of uncertainty and the echoes of unfulfilled promises.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

My One and Only, My Lifeline

Pairing: NASCAR!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: angst, crash and injuries

Summary: Steve is a famous NASCAR driver who finds the thrill in driving at high speeds. You’re there at every one of his races, praying that he’ll make it out without injury. Sometimes, God doesn’t answer prayers and then the worst happens.

Squares Filled: "I'm just trying to sound tough" (2021) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: i saw this video on tiktok and i immediately drew inspiration for it. go check it out!

x

One of the most dangerous jobs in your opinion is race car driving like NASCAR, but your boyfriend is very skilled at it. He has always had a passion for racing even when he was a teenager. There were underground racing groups that would take their precious muscle cars and go so far out of town that there wouldn’t ever be people on the road to crash into. Hundreds of kids would gather to watch the race and almost all of them would place bets on the best driver, that being Steve.

Steve claimed he loved the thrill of it but you know the fame was a big part of it to. He felt untouchable. Everyone tried racing him but he had all the best things. It didn’t help his dad was the best mechanic in town that would often supply Steve with the best parts. Still, Steve didn’t need it. He had raw talent on his side.

There was this one time when Steve’s opponent got so mad that he lost against him that he declared a rematch but the driver had to pick who got to drive their car. He picked someone he thought was the best while Steve immediately went to you. You have never driven like he does a day in your life but he trusted you to drive his car without question.

He sat in the passenger seat and watched you with heart eyes as you drove as smoothly as he did. The cops were called about the illegal racing and came to shut it down, and you passed by the finish line and continued driving away. The cops almost nailed you two but you made a swift escape by outrunning a train. There was an opening that Steve didn’t think you’d make but you proved him wrong that night.

It was thrilling but it was something you never wanted to do again. You’d leave that for Steve to do.

Eventually, he moved out of state with you and applied for NASCAR. It took him a long time to actually drive on the track and when he did, he impressed everyone. His rise to fame was fast, almost too fast for you to keep up. Before, you’d go out with him to the store without issue. Now, you can’t go anywhere without women falling head over heels for him or men asking him to sign things.

It makes Steve happy so you don’t say anything about it. It could be worse but you often wish that things could go back to underground racing and running from the cops.

You walk into the area with your laminated VIP pass slung over your neck like a necklace. From Steve’s first race to now, you have never missed one. Even when you were in the hospital for a broken leg, you still found a way to cheer him on from the stands. Steve’s been part of the same pit crew for years so they all know you like you’re part of their little family. They allow you to be with the crew because you’re always out of their way.

All you want to do is support your man as close as you can get.

“Hey, Tony!” you greet the man responsible for designing Steve’s car. Tony took a shot at Steve years ago and has been his sponsor ever since. “How’s Pepper?”

“At home with Morgan. I told her she could come but she didn’t want Morgan around here.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want a six-year-old here either.”

“You’re here.” You turn around and see Steve jogging over to you. “I’m just about to go out.”

“Go kill it, baby,” you grin.

He kisses you twice--once because he loves you and one more for good luck. He slides his helmet on and hops into his car through the window since the doors don’t open. Cars don’t have any opening doors to protect the drivers in case they crash. They can roll safely knowing a door won’t open and they’d be ejected from it. You fear for Steve’s life whenever he gets into that car and pray that he makes it through this race unscathed.

It’s worked so far… until it doesn’t.

Steve slides into his car and does the pre-race checkup with his pit crew before driving over to the group of cars that are already driving slowly along the track. They do that as they wait for everyone to prepare for it. As soon as everyone is in line, they set up the starting line witht he large green flag in the air. Just like how a flip is switched, every single driver presses on the accelerator and the race is on.

It’s hard to determoine who will come out on top in the beginning os everyone is fair game. It’s only until they reach the mid-mark that people start to get an idea of who is going to come in the first five spots. Steve pulls into the pit area and stops so his crew can give the car fuel and change his tires all at an alarming speed. It amazes you how quickly his team works.

You sit with your elbows on your knees and rub your hands together from how nervous you are. Cars race by in the blink of an eye, round and round they go. This race is three hundred and twelve laps and Steve just passed the three hundred mark. The race is nearly done and he is neck and neck with his biggest opponent, Baron Zemo.

“Y/N, he wants to talk to you.”

You get up and take the headset from one of the crew members, Bucky.

“Steve?”

“Baby, talk to me. Give me words of encouragement.”

“You can do this, Steve. I’m so proud of you and I’ll be proud of you no matter the outcome.”

“No, do better.”

“Uh… Oh! If you don’t win this, I’m going to leave you for another man.”

“No man will ever get the chance to touch you,” he smirks.

“Go kill it, baby.”

“You know I will.”

You take the headset off and hand it back to Bucky. Eleven laps to go.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

You’re standing on the edge where the concrete barricade is. It feels like your head is going to explode from the lack of oxygen because you’re holding your breath in anticipation. If you even blink, you fear you’ll miss it.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Nearly there. Steve and Zemo are neck and neck as they come across the final three laps. You’re not sure which one is going to win. One half of the audience is cheering for Steve while the other half is rooting for Zemo.

Three.

Two.

You prayed for tonight to go according to plan but not all prayers reach God. There are some that fall through the cracks, this time, it’s yours. It’s the last lap and it’s clear that Zemo isn’t going to win this one. He does the one thing that would ensure his first place prize. All it takes it one swerve of his car and Steve gets thrown off balance. His car is slammed into concrete wall before swerving toward the grass. It flips twice and comes to a screeching halt.

Time slows down for you. Nothing else matters but your boyfriend. You open your mouth and scream his name but you don’t hear it. You heave yourself over the concrete barricade and sprint right into the tracks. The crew members try grabbing at you to keep you from running onto the tracks with dozens of racecars.

Silence befalls the audience as they watch with horror from the accident. Not even Zemo’s side are cheering for his run. Everyone saw what he did. He betrayed Steve and causes him to crash just so he could get the nearly eight million dollars. You take a step onto the track and almost get knocked back by cars speeding past you.

You find your first opening and run across the track as fast as you can before the next wave of cars can come. Thirty feet before you get to Steve’s car, the engine blows up in flames. Reality comes rushing at you at full speed.

“Steve!”

HIs pit crew is already trying to make their way over to help but you’re not sure what they can do about the smoke bellowing out of the car. You get on your knees and look through the open window to see him coughing inside.

“Steve! Grab my hand!”

Steve looks at you with dazed eyes. He must have hit his head on the ceiling. He struggles to get into a position that can slide him right out of the car but he doesn’t stop trying. You reach in to help but your arm touches the hot, hot metal of the dashboard. You hiss in pain but ignore it because Steve is top priority.

Bucky grabs your shoulder and gently moves you out of the way so that he and the crew can get him out. They’re better qualified than you are. Bucky pulls Steve out of the car only moments before the rest of the car gos up in flames. He has scratches to his leg and bruising on his face but you think he’ll be okay.

“Y/N, are you nuts? You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“You’re bleeding, Steve.”

“I’m okay.” He winces from pain which means he’s clearly not okay. “Okay, I’m just trying to sound tough. You really shouldn’t have come out here. It was stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to you. I thought… I can’t lose you, Steve.”

Steve stays seated on the ground and waits for the paramedics to come and you sit right nex to him to keep him company. Steve grabs your hand and notices the burn on your forearm.

“Shit, Y/N, you’re burned. You could have died.”

“So could you. Your life is tied to mine. If you die, then I die.”

Steve kisses you quickly to assure you that he’s going to be okay.

“I can’t die now,” he chuckles painfully. “Winning means nothing if you’re not next to me.”

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[ironbabey]

July

Peter Parker x Reader

angst, maybe fluff?

Word Count: 1k

Inspired by the song July by Noah Cyrus

~~~~~~~~

I've been holding my breath, I've been counting to ten, over something you said

“So uh, what do ya say? Wanna give it a shot?” Please say yes please say yes please say yes-

“I’m sorry, I really am, but I’m gonna have to say no.”

No. He said no.

It took you months to work up the courage to finally tell him how you felt, ironically you told yourself the worst he could say was no. Fuck, it hurt.

You were crushed. “Oh uh, that's okay. We can just stay friends.” It’s not okay, you don’t want to be friends. Well, you do. You also wanted-no, hoped- for something more.

He smiled, god you loved that smile. It never failed to make your heart skip a beat, even breaking it at the same time.  “Glad this won’t change our friendship. I care about you a lot.” He says, you can hear the pity in his voice.

He cared, just not in the way you wanted.

I've been holding back tears, while you're throwing back beers, I'm alone in bed

You were always told rejection hurt but you didn’t think it’d be this painful. Peter went out while you were sulking in your bed. There’s more fish in the sea, right? You shouldn’t have fallen for him, everyone told you not to, and yet here you are.

How could you be so stupid?

Of course he didn’t like you.

You were nothing compared to her.

You didn't have the perfect teeth, the perfect hair, the perfect skin, the perfect...anything. You were just you.

You stupidly thought that it would be enough for him, she didn't even remember him, but you made new memories with him.

You know I, I'm afraid of change. Guess that's why we stay the same

You two were fighting now. It's your fault anyways. You lashed out on him just because he hadn’t reached out to you since that day. He's ignored your texts, calls, hell you even tried an email for the fun of it. He stilled ignored you.

The day you confessed really fucked things up.

You decided to be the bigger person and show up at his door. He would've known you were going over if he read your messages.

“I thought we agreed that wouldn’t change us. You said you wanted to be friends so why are you being such a dick?”

 “I’m being a dick? Oh, that’s real funny coming from you. I have a life full of other people, not just you. I don’t see why I have to be the one to do everything.”

You bit your lip and looked at the ground, embarrassed that you were acting childish, “No, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

So, tell me to leave, I'll pack my bags, get on the road

Peter let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, the soft hair you used to play with during the times you'd study together. “I think you should go. I can’t handle this—you—right now.”

You refused to cry in front of him. “Yeah, okay.” You grabbed your bag and slammed the door shut on your way out. You fucked everything up, didn’t you?

Find someone that loves you better than I do, darling, I know

A week went by, and he finally texted you, asking you to go over and talk it out. In the end you were still his best friend, and he didn't want to lose you.

You picked up a photo that was in a beautiful golden frame on the coffee table, you knew who the woman was, Peter talked about her all the time, and it killed you. You thought he was over her.

 “What are you doing with that?” He grabbed the framed photo from your hands as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

You blinked back the tears that were threatening to come out, “It was just sitting here, she’s pretty. Really pretty.”

Peter smiled, “Yeah, she was. The greatest too.”

‘Cause you remind me everyday, I’m not enough but I still stay

You two sat in uncomfortable silence. He wanted to make up, wanted things to be normal again, but you had other plans. You wanted answers. “What does she have that I don’t? What’s so different?”

He groaned. “Please, don’t start this right now.”

You stood up from the couch, “No! I want to know why you’re after someone who moved on. Someone who doesn't even rem-“

“She was the only one there for me through all of it! She helped me from beginning to end! I ruined everything just to make sure she got into the school she worked so hard for!" His voice went soft, he couldn't hold back the tears that went streaming down his face. His brown eyes were hardly visible through them, "She was all I had. She was the only girl that ever looked my way and actually liked me.”

Then what am I?

I've done a lot of things wrong, Loving you being one. But I can't move on

“What?”

“Then what am I?”, you repeated deep down you knew you were being a little selfish, but he had no right to say you didn't care, “I’ve been there for you. I’ve laughed with you, cried with you, I even fought with you and you’re still tossing me aside?”

“Listen-“

“No! You listen to me! I’ve done nothing but love and care about you but clearly that’s not enough! Nothing is ever enough for you! I-I’m not enough.”

Peter stood to hug you. To tell you that you was more than enough. To tell you he was just afraid of being more than what you were now.

If you want me to leave, then tell me to leave, and baby, I'll go

You moved away from his attempted hug. How dare he cry when it was him who was hurting you? “N-No, you don’t get-get to cry.” you choked out through your own tears.

“I’m sorry please just understand.” He begged.

“Tell me to leave. Tell me you don't want to see me again and I’ll stop. I’ll leave you alone just like you want.” That’s not what he wanted, not at all. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if you left him too.

“That’s not-I want you to stay.”

You remind me every day, I'm not enough, but I still stay

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

[itsasilentreader]

ᯤ⭑ 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ― 𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Sebastian Sallow x reader

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: Angst, suggestive

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 3.1K — 21 𝙢𝙞𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙

𝙏𝙒/𝘾𝙒: Brief mention of Y/N, but no physical descriptions were given. Characters are aged up. hurt/comfort but also angst with no happy ending, (mentions of) death, grief. (please let me know if I've missed one!)

𝘼/𝙉: I have changed the timeline from the 5th year to somewhere in their 7th year, even though it is not actually mentioned, it makes it fit better into the timeline I have in my head. And I normally don’t read angst because I don’t want my fragile little heart to break, but I still wrote this??? I also don’t really know how to write angst (yet) but I hope you all enjoy this piece.

⤷ 𝘍𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘚𝘦𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵. 𝘚𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭.

⋮ 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

It all happened so fast. Flashes of red blasted in front of your eyes. Trying to hold off Sebastian’s uncle Solomon while fighting off any inferius with fire. That is until you see the walls light up with green and you see Solomon fall on the ground. Your mind is not processing what is happening as you watch the scene in front of you fold out. You watch as Solomon’s wand rolls out of his lifeless hand. Ear-deafening silence falls upon you.

“Depulso!”, you hear Anne scream and Sebastian is blasted backwards, knocking the wind out of him. She looked around at all the inferius and lit them on fire with incendio.

Anne shuffles towards her uncle. Tears glistened in her eyes, threatening to fall free. She stands up and faces the grimoire before destroying it. “Bombarda!” Sebastian’s hope of finding a cure for Anne goes up in flames in front of him. “No!”, he screams out, but not able to move from his spot.

Anne clutches her stomach in pain. She already was in terrible pain because of the curse, but nothing could compare to the heartbreak she felt at that moment. In that moment, she lost all of her family. She looks back at Sebastian, pain and grief in her eyes. “You’ve made your choice”, she said.

Sebastian lightly shakes his head. Anne kneels next to her uncle’s body and lets her tears fall free. Sebastian reached out to her, even though she was nowhere near him, but she apparated without sparing him another glance.

You managed to drag Sebastian back to the Undercroft and sat him down on the old couch he once conjured in this space. He hasn’t said a word since Anne apparated. “I fucked up. I-”, Sebastian shut his eyes tightly and inhaled sharply, “I-I killed him.”

“Hey, hey look at me,” you took his face in both hands. His brown eyes found yours, but they felt empty. Tears are forming and threaten to fall down his face. “How could I do this? Anne will never forgive me”, Sebastian whispers to you. His tears fell freely, and you did your best to wipe them all away for him. His hands gripped your wrists tightly.

For once, you didn’t know what to tell him, because what would you say to someone who just used an Unforgivable curse, a killing curse, on their uncle?

Instead of replying to Sebastian, you pulled him closer to you. His sobs broke free and he clutched your cloak in his hands. As if he was afraid you would disappear on him too. You ran your hands through his hair and whispered to him that it would be okay, eventually. But there was a nagging feeling in your gut. Will it truly be okay?

“Anne will never forgive me,” he repeated, seemingly in shock. “What do I do now?”, he whispered through his sobs. You didn’t respond right away, “I don’t know Seb”. You sighed while still holding him in your arms. Knowing you didn’t leave him to be on his own right after he killed his uncle, gave him some form of safety and dare he say love. The charismatic boy you met when you first came to Hogwarts broke down in your arms and showed his vulnerability.

“I think we do need to know what Anne will do with this now. There is a chance she will turn you in.” You said to the brunette boy in your arms. He nodded, “I know, and she is right to do so.” He stayed silent after that and for a while, you two stayed like that. “Maybe Ominis can convince her not to send you to Azkaban. He probably knows of it by now.” You shifted your position a bit so you could properly look at Sebastian.

He looked deep in thought. “He might be my best friend, but he absolutely does not want to be involved in dark magic. I don’t know if I can trust him on our friendship to not send me to Azkaban”. Sebastian looked at you. His eyes were red and the mischievous spark in his brown eyes was gone. In front of you, he seemed like a shell of who he once was.

“I will talk to him. Ask him, convince him, if he can reason with Anne not to turn you in. She already lost her uncle, she doesn’t need to lose her brother too”, you told him. He nodded slightly. “Hopefully she will reason with him”. Silence fell over you again, but you didn’t let go of Sebastian. His tears stopped falling but the stains were still visible on his cheeks. “We will figure something out”. He nodded absently but kept his firm grip on you.

The silence surrounding you made you think about the boy you were holding in your arms. It made you wonder where it went wrong and how he ended up on this path with dark magic. It also made you wonder why you are here with him. Most people would run off in fear of what they might do to them, but here you are, holding and consoling him. Most people also can’t see traces of Ancient Magic, but you can see it.

It was no secret that you and Sebastian were close. There was a connection between the two of you that neither of you addressed, or wanted to address. After all you’ve been through together, it might be that you have created a (massive) soft spot for the freckled boy in your arms. And it is no secret that Sebastian holds you close to his heart. How could he not when you were there, right by his side, to help him with every quest to find a cure for his twin? It was an unspoken connection of love that neither of you dared to address.

An idea popped into your head, “Come with me.” You stood up from the old couch, which was way too small for the two of you. With his hand in yours, you let him out of the Undercroft.

When you eventually walked up the stairs of the astronomy tower, Sebastian figured out you were bringing him to the Room of Requirement.

The enormous door appeared and you led Sebastian inside. Confusion is still visible on his face, “Why are we here?” he asks. You gave him a soft smile while leading him towards the vivarium. “Whenever I feel discouraged, I always visit these little guys.” You let go of his hand for a moment, already missing the warmth and took out your wand.

“Maybe just sitting here with them will help you gather your thoughts,” you sat down and pat the ground next to you. He watches as the little puffskeins skip towards the two of you and eventually sits down next to you. His thigh pressed against yours and your hands so close you can almost touch each other. “It might help us to have a clear mind and come up with a plan together.”

You conjured two brushes, one for you and one for Sebastian, and started to brush the puffskeins closest to you. The two of you sat in silence, a peaceful silence. It was a stark contrast between the silence that surrounded you now and the ear-deafening silence that engulfed you back in the catacomb where Sebastian killed his uncle. You never thought you would sit here with Sebastian, brushing the puffskeins you had saved. But then again, you also never thought Sebastian would kill his uncle.

Sebastian watched you brush the little creatures before speaking up, “Thank you.” Your gaze met his and he looked down at the little creature that managed to climb in his lap. You continued to watch him and wait for him to speak up again. “I don’t deserve you, your kindness,” he shook his head lightly before whispering, “Your love.”

“Sebastian-”, he shook his head again before his eyes found yours again. “I mean it Y/N. Sometimes I wonder why you are still here, by my side.” You frowned at his words. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Sebastian turned away slightly, seemingly avoiding looking at you before speaking his next words.

“I’ve always seen the dark arts as a value when it’s needed. But after that day when we found Salazar Slytherin’s scriptorium, and I-” he pauses and closes his eyes for a second, “When I casted the Cruciatus curse on you, I thought I had lost you.” He said.

You looked away and let his words sink in. “But you were still there for me, by my side, after that. I should have never cast that curse on you. Ever.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, and his head dropped. “Sometimes I still hear your screams when I lay in bed at night. The sound of your pain pierces through me, through my heart.” Your heart clenched at the thought of him replaying that scene over and over again in the dark of night, alone.

“You know I wouldn’t let you cast it if I wasn’t sure about it Sebastian.” He shook his head. “You don’t understand Y/N, Ominis was right. You will regret it from the moment you use it. Just like tonight. It haunts me and it always will haunt me.” You shuffled closer to him before you spoke up, “I will always be there for you, you know that. Please just let me be there for you.” You chose your words carefully before softly adding, “Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“That’s the thing Y/N, I don’t deserve it. At all. I’ve only caused you pain and I will only continue to cause pain, destruction and grief. I don’t know if I could control myself.” You let a sigh escape your lips before grabbing both of his hands in yours. His hands felt rough in contrast to yours.

“Most people would turn their back on you, run away as far as they can. But I will not leave you behind or cast you aside.” His hopeful eyes observed you as you spoke so softly to him. “We have been through so much together. You were the one who helped me navigate this magic I had no idea of.” You sighed and looked down at his hands in yours.

“You would really want to be with me, even after tonight? After seeing me committing something so-, so heinous?”, he whispered to you. “You shouldn’t be with someone like me, I won’t be what you need.” Breathing deeply, he slowly slipped his hands out of your hold. Missing the feeling of his hands in yours instantly. His shoulders slumped and you shook your head at his words.

“I know this is a frightening time, and I’m not going to lie to you about it. This will take a toll on you, on us and our…,” not daring to say the word ‘relationship’ as you didn’t know where you stood on that. You turned your head away and shifted in your spot on the ground. The little puffskeins still cuddled up to you as you picked up your brush again.

“This won’t mean I’ll turn my back on you Sebastian. I want to be there for you, every step of the way. If I wouldn’t do that for you, for us, I wouldn’t be here right now with you.”

After a few beats of silence, you felt Sebastian shift next to you. A nervous smile is painted on his lips. He’s fidgeting with the brush and the little puffskein in his lap, seemingly reflecting on the words you have just spoken.

Then, he put down his brush and let the little creature off his lap. He turned his body towards you and “I don’t deserve you, but I’m mad about you Y/N.” Your heart stammered in your chest by his confession. This was the first time he confessed it was more than just a friendship.

Inching closer to each other, you felt your heart skip a beat when his cologne infiltrated your senses yet again tonight. Eyes flickering from your eyes to your mouth, you felt his hand cradle your cheek and the other one wrap around your waist to pull you closer. Lips brushed over each other while both of you didn’t dare to move.

Your eyes met his and with a whisper of his name, he pulled you in. When your lips touched, it felt like time stopped. Every ounce of his love for you was felt through this kiss and the touch of his lips. Your hands found their way onto his neck and his hair. You’ve finally dared to cross that line and it felt freeing. “If you haven’t noticed yet, I’m mad about you too.” You spoke against his lips before capturing his plump lips again for another kiss.

You felt him smile against your lips and a soft sigh escaped his lips. Breathless you pulled away to rest your forehead against his. You observed every detail on his face through your eyelashes. How his eyes were closed and a soft, small smile was displayed on his soft lips. Every freckle that made his face so unique and pretty. And still, you wondered how someone so beautiful could have such a dark side. How well hidden this side was until you came along and urged him to find a cure for his twin sister.

You stayed like this for a while, savouring each other's company. Every once in a while stealing a soft kiss. His eyes stayed on yours and even though, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes is gone the love he had for you was evident in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Come on, let’s go back.” You gave him one quick kiss and grabbed his hand. As you both stood up, his hand never left yours.

You made sure the beasts in the vivarium were well-fed before walking towards the entrance of the vivarium with Sebastian right beside you. Upon entering the Room of Requirement again, you felt it rumble and another unknown door appeared to your right. “This room astonishes me every time.” Sebastian smiled in amazement.

A soft giggle escaped your lips and Sebastian’s face lit up upon hearing it. You walked in front of him and entered the room that was conjured before you. It shouldn’t surprise you that this room made sure you had a cosy room for just the two of you, away from prying eyes. It felt that you needed this at this moment with Sebastian. A stark contrast of what had happened; you laying in bed with your love and what happened mere hours before.

The clock on the nightstand read 2 AM, but you were still wide awake. Sebastian’s head was resting on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. It gave him peace and comfort. You, however, felt that gnawing feeling in your gut again. How will you ever convince Ominis, one of Sebastian’s dearest friends, to let him walk away free? Is it even possible to reason with Anne or did she make up her mind already?

Mindlessly, you’ve been running your fingers through Sebastian’s hair and you felt him occasionally give you a soft kiss on your chest. You stayed like this until Sebastian spoke up, “Thank you, again.” A soft smile spread on your lips. “Of course, I’ll be there for you. Always.” A sad smile appeared on his face and he felt his eyes water. His eyes fluttered closed to prevent them from falling. “I will never forget it.” His grip on your waist tightened.

His words repeated themselves in your mind and it didn’t help you ease that gnawing gut feeling you felt. Why did those last five words feel like a goodbye? Your mind was wandering and eventually sleep took over both of you as you were intertwined with each other, two hearts beating as one.

As you awoke from your slumber, you had to take a moment before you remembered where you were. Soft rays of sunshine peeked through the window and you stretched your body to get up. You turned around to expect Sebastian’s warm body next to yours, but you were met with an empty, cold space. The sheets were still crumpled as if someone laid there just a few moments before.

Confused you look around in the room, but no sign of the chestnut-haired boy. A slight panic travelled through your body as you got out of bed. You opened the door, hoping to see him there but with no luck. It was as if he was never there.

Frustration filled you, you swallowed hard. What was he up to? Did he turn himself in? Did he go to Anne himself to reason with her? To apologize? Suddenly, you heard footsteps coming from the top vivarium where your Phoenix resided. Hopeful you looked up and expected Sebastian to walk down the stairs but to your disappointment, it was just Deek.

“Mr. Sallow left a note for you. He wanted Deek to give it to you.” Lips pressed together, you nodded and took the note from Deek’s hands. Folding it open, your eyes filled with tears and you felt your heart break.

“Thank you for loving me even though I didn’t deserve it. Please tell Anne I’m sorry.”

It seems your gnawing gut feeling was right, he was saying goodbye to you last night.

Sebastian didn’t show up that whole week and news travelled fast. After all, someone with his charisma is well-known and easily missed when he is not around. Sitting down across from Ominis at breakfast, you watched him for a moment. Ominis clutched his utensils as he silently eavesdropped on some students sitting further down the table. His face wore a pained expression. “I’ve heard his uncle died so suddenly in his sleep. Now he and his sister really have no one left. He probably went back home to his sister.” Ominis let out a scoff before continuing to eat his breakfast.

You and Ominis knew better. Sebastian didn’t return to his home in Feldcroft, he didn’t return to Anne. He knows how much pain he caused her, and both you and Ominis for dabbling in dark magic. He didn’t want to cause more pain and grief to those closest to him, not knowing if he could stay on the right path after feeling the power dark magic can give you.

So he disappeared that night as if he never existed in your life. And every night, you still sat in the Undercroft, hoping one day he would return to you.

Thank you for reading! All the likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

Ⓒ︎ 𝗶𝘁𝘀𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥. 𝗗𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵.

[olsenmyolsen]

Chapter Seven: Okay

The Farmer's Daughter - (A WandaNat Story)

Masterlist

Tag list: @xenaizogie

Summary: Natasha wakes up the next morning to find Wanda gone. She seacrhes town for her and runs into some of Wanda's friends.

Word Count: 3.1K

Content: TW: Asshole Jarvis (Vision), Flirty Bucky Barnes, Angst!, Yelena Mention

By the time the sun rose, Natasha had already been awake for hours. In fact, since Wanda slammed the door, Natasha had barely slept.

Whenever she closed her eyes, she thought of two things: her sister and Wanda.

Natasha tried calling Laura in the middle of the night before hanging due to it being the middle of the night. Natasha felt stupid for that one.

She wanted to call Clint, but she had not heard back from him since he was deployed, so...

It left her alone with her thoughts.

But now, as the warm glow bled onto her mattress from the window, she was reminded that it was the dawn of a new day.

She needed to apologize to Wanda.

But first, she needed a shower. She couldn't face Wanda with dried sweat all over her body and red eyes. However, maybe that's what she deserved for Wanda to see her at her lowest. If that wasn't it last night.

Natasha shook her head and began to strip out of her clothing before her eyes found the tote bag Wanda brought last night.

She took delicate steps forward and picked up the shirt on top. She held it up and smiled. It was an old concert t-shirt for a pop artist that Natasha would bet all her money that Wanda still loved.

Natasha held the shirt closer and discovered it still smelled of Wanda. Her hands rubbed the fabric before she brought it closer to her body. Soft.

Natasha exhaled and held the shirt close as she turned and looked for a suitable pair of jeans to wear post-shower.

Twenty minutes and an empty bottle of body wash later, Natasha threw on her new t-shirt and picked up her phone just before exiting the tiny house.

She walked the semidry path from the rain last night and felt the guilt of Wanda running home in the rain. Natasha shook her head and practiced lines of apology in her head as she opened the screen door to the Lehnsherr home.

She missed the fact that the red SUV was gone.

"Hello?" Natasha called out as she stood in the doorway. "In here!" Magda called out from the kitchen. Natasha entered and kicked her boots off. "Hello dear, what can I do for you? Breakfast?" Magda asked as she entered from the hallway.

Natasha shook her head. "I'm fine. I was wondering if Wanda was around." Magda raised an eyebrow before also shaking her head. "She went out with some friends last night. Hasn't returned."

Natasha remained composed as she was told this information.

"Do you know who with?" Natasha asked, trying to remember the names of the people from the other day. Magda gave a shrug. "Sorry, dear." She then paused and looked at Natasha. "Did something happen?" Magda's soft voice became more stern.

Natasha instantly shook her head. "No, ma'am." Magda looked down at the shirt Natasha was wearing. She remembers taking her daughter to that specific show. Natasha noticed the look and found herself growing warm in the face. "She just gave me some extra clothes, and I wanted to thank her. I promise!"

A smile worked its way into Magda's face. "Okay." She said in a way that made it seem like she entirely didn't believe Natasha but left it alone.

Wanda and Natasha were both consenting adults.

But Magda would talk with Natasha if she genuinely thought something was happening.

"I can give you her phone number. Maybe you could reach her that way," Magda suggested as she walked back into the kitchen. "That'd be great," Natasha said as she followed.

Magda grabbed her phone and let Natasha copy the number on the screen before also taking down hers, just in case.

"Thank you," Natasha said as she went to walk away before remembering. "Do you know where the keys to the truck are?" Magda shook her head. "No truck. Erik took it for fishing early this morning."

"Oh," Natasha replied. Looks like her bike would do today. Natasha gave a flat smile and turned around down the hall.

As she was putting her boots on, Magda came out from the back. "Try Bruce's." She said. Natasha looked up, confused. "It's a small coffee shop in the heart of town. She might be there." Natasha smiled, but before she could thank Magda, she walked away.

She wore a tight-lipped smile that Natasha couldn't see.

Natasha parked her bike in front of Bruce's a short time later. She removed her helmet and looked at the big, ugly purple sign. Smashing Coffee was the tagline.

She held her helmet under her arm as she entered the establishment. Magda was right. It really was the heart of the town as just about everyone who was probably somebody was in here on an early Sunday morning.

Yet Natasha couldn't find the eyes of Wanda.

But she did find the eyes of someone else.

"Hey Natasha, right?"

Shit, what was his name? Lucky?

A man approached Natasha with a tray of hot and cold drinks. He was attractive, and Natasha could see herself falling for a man of his charm... if she wasn't a lesbian. "How's it going on the farm?" He asked as Natasha walked with him to grab packets of sugar and straws.

"It's good." She replied short as she worked up the way to ask about Wanda.

The man smirked and looked at Natsha's eyes. "You forgot my name, didn't you?" Natasha gripped her helmet under her arm tighter. "Yeah. Sorry." The man shook his head and stuck out his hand. "Bucky. It's a pleasure to re-meet you, Natasha." His voice was smooth, but she wasn't here for him.

"Do you know where Wanda is? She isn't answering her phone." Natasha found herself saying before she could stop. "Oh my gosh-" Bucky stopped Natasha with a smile. "Wow, I see." He said with a laugh. "No." Natasha started saying. "It's nothing like that-"

"No, it's cool," Bucky interjected. "She's with us." He then looked Natasha up and down. "Nice shirt." He smirked before he flexed his left arm and pointed at Natasha's arms before picking up the tray of drinks.

Natasha looked at her arms and saw how the shirt was a tighter fit on her than it probably was on Wanda.

"Wanda is some lucky gal," Bucky said as the two exited the coffee shop. "Bucky, I promise it's not-" Natasha gave up. There was no point in convincing him as long as he took her to Wanda.

"She's back at Danvers. I'll take you there." Bucky said with a smile before looking at Natasha's helmet. "Or you can follow me." Natasha quickly weighed her options. "I'll follow." She responded. Bucky clicked his teeth. "Should I stop trying?" He asked as he started leading Natasha to his car so she knew which one to follow. "Yeah..." Natasha replied as Bucky stepped off the sidewalk to come to the driver's side of a blue Volkswagon beetle.

"This is yours?" Her dog tags hung away from her body as she bent down to look through the passenger window.

"Please don't mock me." Bucky pleaded. Natasha looked at him and hid a smile. "It looks... great." She responded cheerily, but Bucky could see the writing on the wall and sighed. "Just follow me."

Natasha nodded and followed Bukcy on her bike for a mile or two until they pulled into a neighborhood of mini-mansions.

Natasha hated the look of these copy-and-paste houses.

But she kept those thoughts to herself as they pulled up to a house with a Jeep, Subaru, and Wanda's red SUV.

Natasha parked her bike on the road as Bucky parked in the driveway. She placed her helmet on the left handlebar and hopped off. "I know it's a bit much. Trust me, the rest of us don't live in these neighborhoods." Natasha gave a flat smile as she climbed up the driveway to Bucky at the steps of the porch. "Just Carol." He smiled before mumbling: "and Jarvis..."

Natasha tilted her head with an "oh really?" look to Bucky as he opened the front door.

"I brought a guest!" He shouted as he entered the large house that led from the foyer to an immense living room with a bunch of Wanda's friends lounging around. No sign of Wanda.

"Oh shit." The friend with glasses Natasha recognized to be Darcy said aloud. "I mean-" She spoke up. "Oh shit! Natasha, right?" She stood up and passed the stunned face of a blonde, Carol, and a sleepy Sam. Darcy went to hug Natasha before thankfully stopping. "That's Wanda's shirt."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Yes. She gave me extra clothes. It's nothing. Also, hi everyone. Look, is Wanda here?"

Bucky raised his eyebrows and scooted away from the scene to deliver drinks to everyone. Darcy took the opportunity to stand next to her new friend Natasha before lifting her hand to squeeze the redhead's arm. "Sam, she's definitely stronger than you." Natasha looked at Darcy, which made the woman stop touching her before looking at Sam.

Darcy wasn't wrong.

Natasha stepped more into the house and briefly looked at the beautifully decorated art on the walls before stopping at the chair Carol Danvers was occupying. "Is she here?" Natasha asked in a way that quickly reminded everyone in the room that the new Farmhand was previously in the military.

Carol nodded and pointed back. "Y-yeah, she's wi-"

"Natasha?"

Everyone stopped and looked at the voice of Wanda entering the room. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes were slightly glossy, and she wore the same clothes as yesterday.

Natasha's guilt crept up again as her green eyes worked over Wanda. But just as she opened her mouth, a blonde haired man came around the corner with a cocky smile as he stared directly at Natasha. "Ah, so this is Natasha." He spoke with a cocky accent as his arm wrapped around Wanda.

Jarvis. Natasha quickly deduced.

Wanda moved uncomfortably, making the man scoff and step closer to Natasha. "What can we do for you, love?" He asked.

Natasha immediately could see why Erik had an intense distaste for this man. Natasha flickered her eyes from Wanda back to the man.

"I don't remember asking for you." She paused as the man smirked. "I'm here for Wanda."

Everyone around Natasha remained quiet as she stepped forward; her eyes moved to Wanda. "Can we talk?" Jarvis stepped in between the longing look Wanda had on Natasha. "Who says she even wants to talk to you? It's not like you wanted to speak to her last night?"

Natasha turned her head to him. "What?" Her eyes glimpsed to Wanda as she looked at Jarvis.

Jarvis scoffed and stepped closer. "Oh, come on. Wanda came running here, and it had to deal with you, didn't it."

"Jarvis!" Wanda yelled, shocked. "What did you tell him?" Natasha asked, confused. Wanda looked back from Jarvis to Natasha. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Sure I do." He looked Natasha up and down. A smile shining on his punchable face. "At least I never lie about who I am." Wanda stormed herself closer as Jarvis reached down and yanked on the dog tags. Natasha remained still as everyone behind her jumped forward.

"Yelena Belova." Jarvis read the tag before letting it fall from his hand. He tilted his head and whispered. "That's not you, right?"

Wanda gasped at the name as her eyes softened. She looked at Natasha and could see the water forming in the corners of her eyes. "Jarvis, that's enough!" Wanda stepped between the two and positioned her body in front of Natasha's.

Jarvis rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's go back upstairs." He reached for Wanda's hand, but she moved it from his hold. "No. I'm leaving." Jarvis scoffed. "Come on-" He went to reach for her hand again, but a force stopped him and sent him falling to the ground.

Natasha.

She stepped around Wanda and squatted down in front of the pathetic man. She pulled on her dog tags and moved another one into his view. "Natasha Romanoff." She spit the words of her own name at him before turning to Wanda. "Grab your stuff. Let's go."

"I'll help." Darcy jumped forward and wrapped her arm around Wanda's before pulling her away.

"Oh, you don't know what you just did," Jarvis said from the floor. "Hey man, why don't you cool it." Bucky moved from his spot to in front of Natasha.

"You can't be serious? She's an animal!" He flung his words at Natasha, who kept her jaw clenched and face turned away.

"I think it's time to go." Carol and Sam rose from their seats as Jarvis got off his ass. "Come on." Bucky slowly began leading Jarvis out the back door and out of view as Darcy and Wanda appeared again.

"You got everything?" Natasha asked Wanda, making her nod before her eyes looked down the shirt past the dog tags. Natasha looked amazing. The shirt was the perfect fit.

"Hey." Natasha grabbed Wanda's attention. "Are you okay?" She questioned. Wanda nodded with hesitance. "I am now."

Wanda watched Natasha's jaw flex. "Are you?" Wanda replied. "We can talk on the way home. Where are your keys?" Natasha answered and asked a question, making Wanda fluster a little. "Uh.."

"Here!" Darcy picked them up off the table by the door. Natasha stuck her hand out for them, and Darcy happily gave them to her. "I'm driving." Natasha took control, and Wanda would be lying if she said she wasn't a little turned on at this.

"Darcy, can you go grab Bucky?" Natasha asked of her new friend. She nodded and left a cloud of dust. "Bucky?" Wanda asked with a particular look of disgust on her face. "What are you friends with him now?" Natasha could sense the repulsion in Wanda and crossed her arms. "Are you serious?" She asked the hypothetical. "Someone had to lead me to you." Natasha turned her body slightly away. "Since you didn't feel like answering your phone." She mumbled.

This was news to Wanda who pulled out her phone. It was dead. But she looked at Natasha and tapped her arm. Natasha gave the green eyes of Wanda her attention. "You have my number?" Wanda asked with a smile.

Natasha uncrossed her arms. "Yeah, I do." Wanda let that sink in before thinking. "Romanoff..." Natasha didn't like how her last name sounded anymore when Wanda said it. She wanted it to be her first name. "Natasha," Natasha said, making the younger one smile wider. "Natasha..."

"Yes?" Natasha held in a smile of her own.

"Why are you here?"

Natasha sighed and let her body deflate. She looked at Wanda with sincerity. Her eyes brushed over Wanda's pink lips. "I came to apologize. I wanted to let you know how sorry I was for my actions. I shouldn't have spoken to you like-"

"Here!" Darcy came back with Bucky in tow and out slightly out of breath. "Darcy said it was an emergency." Darcy smiled widely at Natasha. "I did it! Aren't I a good girl- I mean, aren't I good- the best! I did a good job!"

Wanda turned away and covered her mouth with a broad-eyed expression.

Natasha smiled at Darcy. "Yes, thank you Darcy." Darcy sent a thumbs-up Wanda's way, but her friend ignored it. Natasha turned to Bucky and pulled out the keys to her bike. "Here." Bucky and Wanda looked shocked at this interaction. "I want you to follow us to the farm. I'm going to drive Wanda home in her car, and Darcy, could you follow us in yours so you can give Bucky a ride back?"

Darcy nodded with glee. She was down for anything. "Are you sure?" Bucky asked. Natasha nodded. "Yes. I am."

A few moments later, as Wanda buckled herself in, she turned and watched Natasha adjust the seat and mirrors to her liking.

Her side profile was striking, and the longer Wanda took it in, the likelihood of getting caught skyrocketed. But Wanda didn't care. She bit her bottom lip and smiled. Wanda was in awe.

Natasha turned to see this and smiled back. "What?"

Wanda kept her eyes on Natasha. "Your... you apologized." She said instead. Natasha nodded. "Technically, I wasn't done, but-" Wanda stopped her. "I accept your apology."

"Yeah, but-"

"I don't wanna hear anymore, Natasha." Natasha closed her mouth and put the car in reverse. "Besides..." Wanda started making Natasha stop her actions. "I should apologize for leaving..." Natasha looked at Wanda. "Nothing bad happened, did it?" Wanda shook her head. Natasha was happy to hear that. "Then it's okay. I know you're safe now." Natasha started reversing the car once again as her body turned to look out the back window. Her right hand on the back of Wanda's headrest.

This action made Wanda's stomach flip.

It was weird. When this flirting game that Wanda was playing halted, she became more enthralled with Natasha Romanoff.

If only she knew it worked the same way for Natasha.

Wanda looked at Natasha as she turned the steering wheel before placing the car in drive. Wanda's eyes fell to the tags on the chain.

Wanda thought back to the moments before she drove here to Carols. She felt awful about her actions. She felt terrible at the thought of Natasha having another nightmare.

Worse than that, she now knew that Natasha wore the dog tags of someone close to her—Yelena.

"Natasha?"

"Yes?" Natasha asked as she turned out of the neighborhood.

"Can I ask you a question? Just one?"

Wanda was careful.

Natasha quickly looked over before focusing back on the road. "Sure." Wanda swallowed and took a second to ask her question. "Feel free not to answer this. But..." Wanda turned her head to Natasha. "Could I ask who is Yelena?"

Wanda watched Natasha become more rigid, and it ached to see. Natasha swallowed and glanced at Wanda's gentle stare.

"She was my sister."

Was.

Wanda caught it and thought back to last night. She wanted to tell Natasha that even though she didn't know the context at the time, her words still remained faithful. Or that she would love to know more about her. Or anything else that might've sounded like a great thing to say.

But instead, Wanda was honest and kept her promise only to ask one question. So all she said was: "Okay."

And "Okay." was more than enough for Natasha. She looked over at Wanda as the younger of the two looked away, and Natasha smiled through the hurt.

Okay was perfect.

It was a new day, and Wanda and Natasha were okay.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[chocolate-marranitos]

Guys I just thought of the most angstest idea while listening to music and like literally ran to write it all down before it suddenly disappeared from my mind

Like image the chain are fighting a group of of monster, all ending up falling through a portal and back to their respective eras.

The story focuses on Warriors (because i love him and it's always him on angsty stories sob) and how when going through the portal ends up getting infected with dink in his head

it's to shows his life with dink eating away at his mind in hopes of controlling him (thought wars does something to stop the process). Distancing from the people that are worried for him. Is horrified that he is forgetting how his brother look like.

Decades pass, and wars is now a sad lonely old man with a open wounded heart. He ends up taking his life as his house is up in flames with dink scream at him (all the while wars being so done with life and cursing hylia for everything she has put his brothers through)

His last moments is letting out a weak chuckle as he imagines a group eight calling his name

I'm literally staring at a document filled with two pages of notas and small snippets of dialogue sobbing

[kindkiosk]

i know we're all very excited for steddyhands acknowledgement but "love triangle" and "competing for hearts" could also mean a very sad season finale for Izzy and i for one can't wait for the angst and pining that is going to create for fandom while we wait on season 3.

i mean shit the edizzy content I've seen in this fandom is already on another fucking level and now we have confirmation of feelings (platonic or otherwise) between them?? and potential canon stizzy interactions??? we're gonna be eating good

stede ditched ed at the pier and the girlies went insane what are they gonna do when stede has to leave izzy behind during a raid? or when edward doesnt get the chance to say sorry before something unthinkable happens and izzy is just... gone? or has to leave for their own good?

[ohbloggerimagines]

HELLO

First of all the way you write rocket is genuinely amazing. Eating up everything you put up on your page with him.

And second, i was wondering if you would be ok with writing rocket x reader where reader comes out as asexual to him. And at first Rocket thinks the problem is him and the way he looks but the reader explains that there's nothing wrong to his looks, it's just how they are.

A little hurt comfort maybe where it's just a misunderstanding.

Hope you are having a good day and thank you

Here you go <3 I really hope this is kinda what you were thinking because I got VERY carried away

and if i implied anything in a bad way im sorry ;;

pairing: rocket raccoon x fem!reader

word count: 2,788

tags: gotg, rocket raccoon x reader, asexual, fem! reader, angst, swearing

You sat on the large couch in the common area, re-reading the book you had read probably hundreds of times at this point. You could hear the laughter of Peter and Rocket from the front of the ship, and every now and then the sounds of someone walking around on the upper decks. 

“I’ll be right back, Pete.” You heard Rocket say, your eyes lifting from your book as you heard him making his way to where you were. “Hey sweets.” Rocket said, taking his usual spot next to you, “Hey Rocky.” You smiled, looking over at him. “That damn book again? You’ve just about ruined it for yourself haven’t you?” He chuckled, “No, no. It still reads the same way it did as when I first picked it up.” 

You could tell by his eyes, he wanted something.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping Peter, you know, steer and navigate and what not?” You asked, raising a brow at him. “Well,” He said quietly, scooting closer to you, “Pete’s got it.. I have some time,” He started, hand placed on your thigh and slowly creeping upwards. Your breath hitched, “Oh, uh, you know, not right now, Rocket. Maybe later tonight..” You said, seeing the disappointment in his face, his ears twitched ever so slightly. He pulled his hand away. “Alright.” He said, leaning back into the cushion. “That’s what you said every other night..” He mumbled, standing back up almost as soon as he was getting comfortable. “Rock-” You started, almost tempted to reach out to him. “No, I get it, it’s fine. Y’know Peter probably needs me anyway, gotta help him with his shit all the time.” He huffed, feigning a smile. You opened your mouth to try and stop him, but he just stared at you. You closed your lips, eyes darting back down to the book, listening to his footsteps almost hurrying back to the pilot area. 

You dropped the book into your lap, hands cupping your face as you sighed heavily, trying not to cry. How were you going to tell him? 

-

“I just don’t get it, man.” Peter shrugged, glancing over at the slightly irritated raccoon. “Why don’t you just ask her what's up?” “I don’t think it's that easy, Pete.” Rocket huffed, staring out into the darkness of space. “I mean, everyone has needs, she’s gotta come around to it eventually, right? I mean, yeah it's a little weird, y’know, you being a raccoon and all and she’s-” Peter felt the side eye from Rocket, “But she likes or loves you or whatever, soo..” “How do you do it?” Rocket asks, Peter raising a brow. “You boast about all these women you’ve been with, including Gamora, how do you get them to, y’know..” His voice trailed off, almost embarrassed to be asking this damn question. Peter snickered, “How do I get them in bed with me? Now Rocket, that is private information that I don’t think I want to share with you.” He teased, “But, I guess it’s just my charm.” When Peter didn’t get a response from the normally snappy raccoon, his eyebrows almost softened, feeling bad for his best friend. 

“Look man, you gotta flirt with her and shit. Don’t be such an asshole all the time, like, tell her how beautiful she is, compliment her and stuff.” Peter shrugged, “I do!” Rocket threw his arms up, “Or at least I think I do. Am I that much of an asshole that she won’t even sleep with me? I mean I’ve tried, I’ve made moves, we sleep in the same damn bed half the time! She just rolls away or mumbles ‘not tonight’ again and again. Why the hell are you humies so stuck up sometimes?!”

Peter glanced over at him, doing one of those half ass-white Terran smiles. Peter was catching on to what you were feeling. 

“What?” “Nothing, nothing.” Peter shook his head, eyes back on the literal space in front of him. 

“You’re no help either, dammit.” He hopped out of his chair, “I’m going to talk to Drax.” Rocket waved his paw at Peter, climbing the ladder to the next level up.

Peter shook his head, thinking he had to go talk to you to try and figure this out and help his friend if he could.

-

“Drax!” Rocket banged on the large metal door, sliding open to reveal the tall, muscular man who resided behind it. “Yes?’ Drax asked, almost confused as to what Rocket could possibly need from him right now. 

“Gotta talk to you.” The raccoon said, sliding past Drax, “And close the damn door, I don’t need anyone, especially Y/N to hear.” He relaxed hearing the metals connect to the closing door. 

“So,” Drax started, 

“How do you get a woman in bed?” 

Rocket asked flatly, almost catching Drax off guard. “You came in here to ask me how to make love to a woman?” “No no, Jesus, not make love, I can do that shit, but how do you convince her in the first place? I mean you had a kid, obviously you know what you’re doing.” Drax sat on his bed, watching Rocket climb into the chair across from him. “You’re trying to have sex with Y/N?” “Yes! Duh, who the hell else? But she just..won’t.” Rocket shrugged, swaying side to side in the chair, “Well when I met my wife..” Drax trailed off, thinking for a moment about her. “We fell in love, and made our beautiful daughter. Maybe you two are not in love.” Rocket stared at him blankly, “We definitely are.” He said confidently. 

“..Maybe it is because you are small, and hairy. And sort of ugly.” Drax stated, Rocket baring his teeth slightly at him. “Shit, you’re as much help as Pete is.” He groaned, rubbing his eyes. 

“Have you considered just asking?” Drax suggested, “Peter said the same damn thing. The hell do you guys want me to do? Just walk up all ‘Oh hey Y/N, wanna have sex with me?’ I don’t think so.” Rocket argued.

“Yes.” Drax said matter of factly. 

“You know what, screw this.” Rocket jumped from the chair and made his way to the door. “And so help me Drax if you say a word to anyone about this I will claw your damn eyes out.” The door shut heavily behind a very disheveled Rocket.

-

“Y/N? Y/N!” You heard your name being called, the voice approaching from down the hall. You set down the dish you were cleaning and leaned out the door of the kitchen, seeing Peter poking his head into all the hallway doors looking for you, “What’s up?” You asked, raising your brow. “You free?” Peter asked, causing confusion on your end. “Uh.. yeah, why? Something happened? Need some help up front?” “No, I just have a question for you.” Peter walked into the kitchen and leaned on the counter as you picked your dish back up and continued to clean. “Ask away.” 

You could hear Peter swallow, almost nervous. 

“Have you and Rocket ever..” He trailed off, anticipating you to start telling him ot fuck off and mind his own business. Instead you became ridgid, feeling all the color wash from your face. “I-I don’t mean to be intruding!” He tried to save himself from the awkward conversation ahead, noticing you tense. “Why?” You asked quietly.

“Well, ugh this feels so weird to talk about and I probably shouldn’t be but, Rocket came to me and like, asked how to get with a woman..in that..situation..because he said you wouldn’t..” His voice was quiet, almost like a child afraid to be scolded. 

You let out a heavy breath, setting down your plate. “I know what you mean.” You didn’t even bother looking over at him. 

“Do you even..want to?” 

“Yes, well, no, but not no in a bad way. It’s just..I’m..” You dropped your shoulders,

“Is it Rocket?” “No, of course not. It’s definitely me.” 

“Oh. I get it. Then why don’t you talk to him. Let him know..? 

You let out an accidental laugh, “Ha! Easier said than done.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Come on Pete, you know Rocket. How he reacts to shit.”

What you didn’t know was the keen ears of a raccoon had picked up on his name on your lips down the hall, stopping in his place to eavesdrop.

“I just can’t do that, I’m not into it, y’know? You seem to have figured that out.” You said. 

Rockets ears pinned to his head, clicking his tongue, “Whatever..” He brushed off the hurt, continuing on his way down the hall, failing to listen to the next words out of your mouth.

“I love him, everything about him. But I just don’t feel those feelings. And I never really have for anyone, anything even. I don’t know if Rocket would believe me if I tried to explain that to him..” You rubbed your temples, Peter trying to think, trying to help the both of you. 

“I thought I’d be able to figure this out if I heard both stories here but, you’re right, he’d probably just assume the worst. I really just think you gotta tell him. I know it won’t be easy, but he doesn’t know what to think, he’s confused as to why whenever he makes a move you shy away everytime. He needs some type of explanation, and you need to stop hiding it from him if you really love him.” 

You closed your eyes and shook your head, a shaky sigh escaping your lips. “You’re right.” “Per usual.” Peter said coyly, earning himself a death glare, “Ok, sorry not the time for that. But, I’ll leave you to it then. I don’t know where he went after he brushed my advice off. He couldn’t have gone far.” Peter waved, “But it is getting late, he might’ve decided to head to your- his-  the room for the night. I’m gonna do the same soon.” He suggested, leaving the kitchen and heading back to his captain seat. 

Gotta tell him, don’t you? 

This was a lot for you to decide.

You wanted to tell him, but then again it’s Rocket. Snarky, aggressive, jumping to conclusions, Rocket.

-

You had made your final rounds of checking on everyone before you headed to yours and Rockets shared room. Saying your goodnights and making sure doors were secured, lights that weren’t needed were off.

Were you stalling? Yes, for sure. You now knew Rocket had some type of suspicion about why you wouldn’t engage with him, and you became nervous to even enter the room, afraid to get either berated, interrogated, anything. You just weren’t ready to come out to him yet.

You slowly opened the door, prepared for what you thought was to come.

But nothing. 

“You’re in here early.” You said wearily, noticing how calm he was.

That was unusual for him. 

“Yeah, had some shit in here to do, figured get it done before Peter talks my ears off about getting it done.” His back was facing you.

Normally he would get up, hug you, kiss you, tease you, anything. But he was scarily..normal. 

“Oh, alright. Sounds good.” Your nervous eyes darted around the room, searching for your pajamas to grab to get an excuse to go to the bathroom and escape the tense air. 

“You left them on the bathroom floor when ya changed earlier.” Rocket read your mind, “Thanks.” You hurried into the bathroom, closing the door and letting out a heavy sigh.

Gotta tell him, gotta tell him. Dammit! Just tell him.

A knock at the door. “You good? I gotta piss, hurry it up.” Rocket almost hissed. You didn’t realize how long you had been sitting there. 

“Sorry.” You practically tore off your clothes and got into your pajamas, opening the door and getting right into your bed. 

How were you gonna approach this?

You heard the trickle of urine hitting water, your heart speeding up.

Gotta tell him.

The flush of the toilet.

The bathroom lights went out, and out came Rocket in his own pajamas, which was just a pair of loose pants. 

He got back into his chair at his desk, the sound of screwdrivers hitting screws, wires snapping with electricity. 

“So, um.” You started, picking at the skin around your nails. “I know earlier I said we could..tonight..” 

You glanced over at him when his tinkering noises silenced. Ears twitched with irritation, flattening ever so slightly. 

“I already know the damn answer. It’s no, again.” 

“Yes, But, I need to tell you something-”

“Oh,” He spun, looking at you harshly, “I already know the damn answer.” 

“You do..?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Who told him? How did he find out? A god, he was a lot more mad than you thought he would be. 

“I sure as hell do. And I don’t need to hear another word outta your damn mouth.” He snapped, eyes staring into yours.

“I didn’t think you’d be that mad about it.” 

“You gotta be shittin’ me, Y/N.” He laughed. 

You almost cracked a smile, assuming his laughter meant you had mistaken his anger. 

But you were so wrong.

“You’re not into it, I know that now. Not into me, not into the way I look, I bet thats what it fuckin’ is. You just can’t do it.” He seethed, anger leaking from his tone.

“Wait, Rocky, what-?” You sat up into your bed. “Oh don’t ‘Rocky’ me. I heard you and Pete. I heard what you said. I love you, Y/N and you just go and say some shit like that? Ya just can’t do it.” He mocked you with the last line, turning back to face away from you to pool in anger.

“You were spying on us.” You mumbled. “It's hard not to spy when you’re just blurting names out willy nilly.”

“You didn’t hear the whole fucking conversation!” You snapped back, causing Rocket to shift in his seat and turn an ear to you. 

“Oh yeah? And what else did you say? How much I disgust you? How you would never sleep with me? How I’m probably just some dumb idiot who-”

“Rocket! God dammit listen to me! You shouted at him, your tone laced with frustration. 

He turned to you, placing his hands behind his head. “Fuckin’ speak your peace then.” 

Your face dropped. 

You had to do it now, with his attention.

“I..I’m..” You stumbled over your words getting caught in your throat. 

“Right.” He scoffed, getting out of his chair. “I’m getting a drink.” Rocket made his way to the door, 

Hand reaching for the handle..

Just say it.

“I’m asexual.” You whispered.

“What?” His ears perked up, body turning to you. “You’re what..?” 

“Asexual.” You swallowed the nervous lump, waiting for him to start some shit.

“That's.. It? This whole time?” “A long time, actually. I just.. Didn’t know how to tell you..how you’d react.” His gaze softened as he made his way to you, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“So it’s..not the way I look or..” “Oh god no, Rock, I think you are the most handsome guy in the galaxy. You have an attractive personality, too. I just don’t feel those feelings like you do. And I’m sorry if I can’t give you what you-”

“Shut up.” Rocket said lowly, taking you back. “What?” “You don’t have to apologize, you idiot. You could’ve just told me. I would’ve been fine with it. I mean, I am fine with it. Just.. kinda mad it took you so long. Do you not trust me or somethin’?” 

You breathed a sigh of relief, “I do trust you, I just assumed you’d be angry.”

“Well you know what they say about assuming.” He teased. “I’m just glad to know you don’t think I’m an ugly fuck or some shit.” 

You tousled the fur on his head, “Of course I don’t think that.” “Thank god, your opinion is the only person’s that matters to me.” Rocket chuckled, sliding off the bed and back into his chair. 

“Now c’mere, I need you to help me with this, and I want your beautiful dumbass next to me.” 

You rolled your eyes, pulling up your own chair beside him, both of you leaning over the desk in the low light of the desk lamp. 

“So, Y/N, when we’re done with this, can you um.. Educate me a little on the whole asexual shit? I’m tech smart, not that smart. Don’t wanna make a fool of myself.” He said softly.

“Sure thing, Rocky.” You smiled.

[pandorascripts]

Absent

pairing: poison ivy x reader

warnings: mediocre angst, proofread once.

note: wrote this at like twelve last night. I just need to get something out lmao. I’m going to start writing a bit more DC stuff until I get get my spark back. Currently writing another Ivy fic based on the comic, Harleen.

———

The door creaks as you slowly open it, peeking in. Pamela’s mixing green and purple liquids, mumbling to herself as they bubble and ooze. 

“Hey, what are you doing? It’s, like, three am,” you say. 

“I’ll be up soon, just need to do a couple more things.” 

You frown, never knowing Pamela to not look you in the eye when she’s speaking. 

“Alright.” You turn to head out, leaving her to her work. “Love you.”

“Yeah.”

You close the door, swallowing harshly. This is ridiculous, it’s been going on for months now. The neglect, the off-handed responses to meaningful statements, and it hurts. It hurts so much, and you swear to God you can feel your heart shattering. 

You blink a coup times, rubbing at them. 

 Why are you crying? She’s got more important things than you, you know that.

You walk up the wooden steps, but stop short. You’re way too tired to climb up another flight just to get to your room. Curling up on a way-too-short step, you let yourself weep. 

The step above you digs into your shoulder every time you let out a sob, but you don’t adjust. The pain somehow grounds you, keeping you from actually bawling your eyes out. Your hand sits in your mouth, stifling what should have been louder cries. You don’t care about the bite marks that will be there tomorrow. 

Pamela didn’t come up to bed that night, not did she bother to put you in an actual room. 

You’re thinking about leaving, ditching Pamela in the night. You cant go on like this, but you’re way too worried to confront her about her behavior. She’ll just put you off, gaslight you and tell you you’re just being dramatic. 

You want her to notice your bruised hand, you want her to notice your puffy eyes the next morning, you want her notice your pain. 

She doesn’t. 

She ignores you all day again, sitting in her lab and talking to her plants. You know she loves those things more than you, she used to tell you that she loved you more. It’s a lie. It always has been. 

You open the door to her lab again, forgetting to knock. 

The creak of the door must’ve thrown her off, because the next thing you know Pamela’s cursing and yelling. Things are spilling over her desk, papers are soaked and burning. 

“Pam! Oh my God! I’m so—“

“Get out!” she yells, pulling her hair as she finally faces you. “GO!”

You close the door with a slam, mortified. Pamela’s never yelled at you before. She knows you hate it, you hate arguing and screaming, she knows what your past was, and she promised to never yell. It was a mutual agreement, and even when you both made each other upset, it didn’t last long. You’d both apologize and talk about it, get over what was causing bumps and come out stronger. You didn’t know if you’d make it out of this one. 

You can still her Pamela yelling, things smashing against the door your head is lain on. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and after that, the only noise you hear is her yelling and your own tears hitting the floor. 

Your knees give out and you slide against bumpy and splintered wood. Your face is soaking, tears painting an ugly portrait on your face. 

As your sobbing against the door, the only thing you can think of is leaving. And right now, it seems like the smart thing to do. 

You don’t bother Pam for the next week, you leave her to be in the greenhouse, actively skirting around her when she leaves for her lab. You don’t like being like this— awkward strangers. For God’s sake, you’ve been dating for five years, you know her inside and out. But she feels different, unstable. It scares you, mortifies you. You don’t know what she’s capable when she’s like this, and you don’t know if you want to find out. 

The letter you write is long, it takes up two full pages of paper, and your handwriting is neat. The only thing screwing it up are the copious amounts of wet spots, which smear the ink. You place the note on her side of the nightstand, and start grabbing essentials. You take everything you can think of, everything that seems important. 

You don’t realize your crying until your vision is completely blurry, but still, you push onwards. You grab a couple sweaters and a couple pairs of jeans. You don’t fold them, instead slamming them into a suitcase as you zip it up. 

“What are you doing?”

Everything stops. Your hand, the loud zipper, your breathing, even your tears don’t flow anymore. It’s like everyone’s waiting, waiting and waiting for Pamela to understand. You take in a shaky breath, finishing the zipper. “Leaving.” 

You don’t turn to face her, instead you pretend to do more with the suitcase, checking empty pockets and extra compartments. You hear her footsteps getting closer and closer and closer, her hand rests on your shoulder. You still don’t face her, you can’t. The moment you look at her you’re screwed, you’ll melt into her and fall into the same pattern. It cant happen. 

“Stop. Please.”

Another hand rests on your other shoulder, slowly turning you around. Pamela looks so heartbroken, and you let out a sob. It’s useless to fight her, you can’t, you’ve never been good at sticking up for yourself. She tucks your head into her shoulder, apologizing from some stupid thing that doesn’t even matter. Pamela cant even figure out what she was doing wrong, she’s reaching, apologizing for yelling, as if the months of emotional neglect aren’t a problem. 

“I’m so tired, Pam.”

You know she’d be crying if wasn’t stopping herself, the last thing either of you wants is you to be covered in bubbling blisters. 

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t bother trying to correct her, to tell her that you miss her. How could you? She’s always there, she’s never not fifteen feet away from you. You cant miss her. But still, you do. 

“I miss you,” you cry out, repeating it over and over again. 

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m right here, okay? I’m right here.” Her voice is soothing, lulling you into hopeful security. It isn’t until your eyes are drooping shut, you’re breathing heavy and loud, that you realize what she’s doing. 

You don’t know what time it is, how long you’ve slept, or where you are, but it doesn’t matter, because the familiar scent of spring wraps around you like a blanket, and you sigh. Everything feels right, a sense of calm eases you, and you really can’t remember what you were so upset about last night. 

“Morning,” Pamela whispers. 

You feel her hand slide up to your shoulder and her chin softly pressing into your head. This is right, everything is okay. 

You mumble back an obscured “G’morning” and bury yourself deeper into her. 

Her chest shakes as she laughs lightly, and you grumble in protest from the movement. 

“Can we just stay here?” you ask, threading your hand in her hair as you do so. 

“I wish, but we’ve got plans, darling.”

You grumble, clearing annoyed. “Yeah but this is so much better.”

Pamela starts playing with your hair, careful not to tangle it. You feel happy at this, happy that she remembers how bad your bed head is. 

“It is.”

“So we can stay here?”

Pamela starts laughing again, her chin rubbing against your head as she shakes her own. “No.”

“Plans, shlamsh! We don’t need to go anywhere.”

“I suppose we don’t need to, but we should. Selina and Harley are waiting on us, though.”

“They’ll entertain each other just fine without us.”

A moment of silence passes through the two of you, each taking in the thought of those two alone together. 

“Yeah we need to leave.”

“Oh God, why did I tell them to wait for us?” Pamela asks, you don’t need to see her face to know she’s mortified. 

“Selina’s probably at Harley’s throat about now. You told her not to bring those mutts right?”

No response. 

“Right?”

“No…. I figured it would be common sense!”

“Harley doesn’t have common sense! She has Harley sense! She probably brought Bud and Lou!”

“We really need to leave, darling.”

Pamela’s up and out of the bed, dressed in a green blouse and black shorts before you even know it. You get up too, looking to the end of the bed. Frowning, you unzip the suitcase. 

“I-I’m sorry, Pam. I don’t know what I was thinking last night. It was stupid, really.”

Pamela closes the suitcase, handing you a sweater of hers and a pair of leggings. 

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

You nod your head, still taking the blame. Pamela smiles, giving you a kiss on the cheek. 

The first kiss you’ve gotten from her in months. 

[a-whumply]

Furina is such an angst icon for me. ughh the suffering she went through is so, so good. And I want the first thing she does after all is said and done is just sleep.

I'm talking dark circles under her eyes and her entire posture just slumping in utter relief. It's over, it's finally over.

I want her surrounded by furry friends and giant puffy duvets in the warm sunlight as a sigh of contentment leaves her. and she sleeps that exhaustion off for weeks.

I NEED THIS.

[subwaysurf45]

Is there any way we can get more Drabble or stories for team Bucky? I would love to see more from them. Like if Steve has a girlfriend? Or his pov?

Team Bucky pt. 2

It's hard to leave a story with a little bit of angst so here we go, let's be friends again!

A/N: here’s part one

The moment Steve understood you and Bucky’s relationship was not too long after telling you he was warming up to the idea of this relationship. 

You were wheeled in on the stretcher, completely unconscious with burn marks on your legs. Steve just happened to be in the medical wing, talking to the receptionist Mary. His world completely stopped when you popped in from the corner of his eye, doctors pushing you extremely fast to a trauma room. One doctor stayed back and leaned over to Mary, using medical terminology and speaking fast so Steve didn’t pick up on a lot of what was happening, all he could understand was what he saw. 

Mary began to write everything, seeing Steve’s face and explaining it to him - all of it. 

The first thing Steve did was run the other way, to go find Bucky. As Steve ran down the corridor and made a right Bucky was already sprinting towards med-bay, FRIDAY most likely made an announcement in their room. 

Steve didn’t wait for Bucky to ask, “she’s unconscious but still breathing on her own,” he pivoted and ran beside Bucky, “burns on her legs as well as head trauma, she’s in room three but we can’t go in to prevent infection,” they had made it and stopped by Mary’s desk, “we have to wait at the chairs?” This question was directed at Mary. 

“Yes, can I get you guys some water?” She guided them both over. Both of them said yes and sat down, looking straight forward and not saying anything. 

The moment Steve heard a sniffle his head whipped over to see Bucky with his head almost between his knees, hands covering his entire face to stifle the cries. Hesitantly, Steve placed his hand on Bucky’s back, causing Bucky to unleash his tears and lean towards Steve. 

“We both know she’s a fighter,” Steve whispered, “you know more than anyone her grit and her ability to bounce back, alright?” his hand rubbed Bucky’s back. 

Bucky nodded and sat up, “I just-” he sighed and wiped down his face, “it feels like I’m losing everyone close to me.” 

“What?” Steve whispered. 

“I feel like I lost you as my best friend and now I’m losing my girlfriend,” Bucky cried as he looked over, “I just feel like my entire life is slipping through my fingers and I can’t make it stop.” 

Steve sighed, “Buck, listen to me.” he waited until Bucky fully looked him in the eyes, “I know you guys haven’t cared for my update with this relationship but I support it, I have seen time and time again your love for one another and I have painfully realized y/n doesn’t need protecting and she certainly doesn’t need me controlling,” they both let out a dry laugh, “part

of me was hurt I was left out of the loop but that was the initial sting, after blowing up I felt like I couldn’t find the right path to get back into your guy’s life so yeah, I pulled away and gave up on trying.” 

“I get that,” Bucky nodded along, “we were going to sit you down and explain, this was not going to be a thing where we surprise you at the wedding or with an engagement ring, y’know?” 

“Yeah,” Steve kept his hand on Bucky’s back, “I wanted y/n all to myself and when I realized I couldn’t have that I freaked out because I thought I had lost everything but I didn’t realize she was still there. For that,” Steve’s eye became glossy, “I’m sorry. For pulling away from you, for being selfish, for not taking a moment to listen, and for not trying harder to make things work.” 

Bucky smiled, “thanks, bud,” it was as sincere as Steve’s apology, “but this-”

“When y/n wakes up I want to go in there right away and say the same thing,” Steve quickly cut Bucky off, knowing what Bucky was going to say. “I know what you mean when you say you feel yourself losing everything, I feel it in this moment too and I understand. I’m not apologizing because of a dire situation but because I feel like it’s the right time so I’m taking it.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, “you can go in first, she’d be happy to see you.” 

********

Steve was slowly coming out from his sleep, he could already feel the knot in his neck from resting in the hospital chairs. Someone was clearing their throat and Steve just thought it was Bucky, it was hard for him to fall asleep in public and was probably still wide awake so Steve kept his eyes closed. 

In his mind he went over what he was going to say and how, he was going to give you time to yell at him and release all the pent up anger towards him. He’d walk in slowly and quickly answer that Bucky was still outside and take a seat, he’d be calm and talk slowly. If you began to cough he’d shoot up and get a glass of water, helping you drink it and wiping your chin of anything that slipped past your lips. He’d take a deep breath and start with- 

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes.” The coughing has turned into a voice, a low voice that didn’t belong to Bucky. 

They both opened their eyes and took in how they were sleeping. Bucky’s head was resting on Steve’s shoulder and Steve’s head was resting on Bucky’s head, Steve’s arm still sitting on Bucky’s back. 

They laughed at themselves and looked forward, both letting out a noise after seeing you sitting in a wheelchair. Neither of them knew what to say, both stunned you were awake and out of bed. 

“y/n has been discharged, she needs to be wheeled back to her room.” 

Steve stood, “but she had burns on her legs, shouldn’t she stay here at least at night?” Steve looked at Bucky and saw he had the same worried expression, Bucky quickly nodded. 

“No,” the doctor said, “the burns have been wrapped and there wasn’t actually any head trauma, just some blood from someone else,” you nodded, “her heart and blood pressure is great, everything is good to go.” 

“I’ll fill out the discharge papers, you can take her back to the room,” Bucky stood and took the clipboard, he looked at you, “Steve wants to talk so I’ll give you space.” 

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, Steve saw the reassuring look Bucky gave you. You looked up at Steve and smiled, “can you take my back to my room and we can talk there?” 

“Of course,” Steve walked around and grabbed the handles, “do you want to stop by the kitchen first?” 

“No thank you,” you placed your hands in your lap as Steve wheeled you out. 

********

“-and that,” Steve said as his voice shook, “is why I am so unbelievably sorry for everything I caused you,” he wiped the tears off his face but it did nothing. He watched your lip tremble, and cried a little more when you stretched out your arms, “I’m so sorry little sis, you have no idea.” 

You nodded and cried as well, “I’m so glad we had this chat, I thought I was going to lose you and I understand everything.” 

“Even the Peggy part?” Steve pulled away, “I just don’t want you to feel that heartbreak like I did,” you nodded with a smile, “the business we’re in I mean…I just don’t want my little sister to get hurt but I know that’s so-”

He stopped when your finger touched his lips, “I understand,” you smiled, “and I forgive you.” 

“Thank God,” he whispered and fell back into the hug, holding on for dear life. “I’m never going to make that mistake again, ever.” Steve squeezed you tightly, “I’m keeping my plan to walk you down the aisle.” Both of you giggled and held each other a little tighter 

“I love you, big bro.”

“You too, little sis.”

Bucky stood quietly in the doorway, smiling to himself at the image he saw before him. It felt like the tension dissolved but most importantly a weight had been lifted off of everyone's shoulders, it felt nice to simply co-exists again. 

Main Masterlist  

Taglist: tag list:  @imtherain@jackiehollanderr@redneckstrash@tylard-blog1@readingbooksdrinkingtea@linzc-reader@hotleaf-juice@honeybunchesofbucky@sky0401@striving4averagegirl@seybox@yaszx@happyt0exist@honeybunchesofbucky@munsonettee@searchf0rtheskyline@aya-fay@emi11ie@wbyss​